


No Rainbow Without The Rain

by Apriel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, Alcohol Withdrawal, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Belly Rubs, Bisexual Brunnhilde | Valkyrie (Marvel), Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bottom Thor (Marvel), Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Captain America Sam Wilson, Comfort, Comfort Sex, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Hair-pulling, Healing, Heavy Angst, Hurt Thor (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Marriage Proposal, Minor Happy Hogan/Pepper Potts, Minor Scott Lang/Hope Van Dyne, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Panic Attacks, Pegging, Platonic Relationships, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Endgame, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Rimming, Slow Burn, Smut, Tenderness, Thor (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Top Brunnhilde | Valkyrie (Marvel), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wedding Planning, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2020-03-09 19:54:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 45,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18923968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apriel/pseuds/Apriel
Summary: Thor returns after journeying with The Guardians but his adventures haven't healed him of his grief and trauma. Fortunately, there are always people waiting for him with open arms~(Post-Endgame fix-it in which Thor gets the love and support he deserves and begins his road to recovery with the help of his friends.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i was taking a hiatus to work on my own writing but then endgame did That so here i am to fix it. first fic of 2019 & it’s gunna be a whopper so buckle up ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

 

“It’s good to have you home, love,” Valkyrie purrs as the lumbering giant gets carefully into bed, mantling her as she holds his great head between her hands.

 

His own hands, like big bear paws, he tries to place carefully on either side of her, but finds he has lost a little of his gainliness since the last time he did this.

 

Valkyrie chuckles when he accidentally weighs down on top of her and offers a very sincere but muffled apology. He makes an attempt to move off but it takes energy he can’t quite spare, and instead he is forced to resign for a moment, making himself comfortable with his head on her chest as he huffs.

 

“Did you have happy travels?” she enquires, stroking his now groomed but still rather long locks.

 

“Ah... yes,” Thor replies with that somewhat sceptical squeak to his voice.

 

The succinctness of his response tells Valkyrie that is not a whole truth. But she knows why.

 

For Thor, travelling with The Guardians had been something he had hoped would help him recover. They had all hoped that, really.

 

Having given up kingship, it became imperative that he sought out adventure as a means of keeping busy, but no matter how far across the galaxy he travelled, depression didn’t find itself tethered to any planet without him. It followed him relentlessly.

 

Valkyrie isn’t surprised to see the young demi-god return unchanged; figure still full and heart still heavy. She had supported his decision to go and encouraged the enthusiasm of his promise to come back restored to his former glorious physique, but she had not held her breath.

 

 _Not_ because she didn’t believe in him of course, but because she knows that nothing can change until he sees for himself that he must confront his trauma before he can begin to heal from it.

 

They lay like this for a little while, Valkyrie just stroking his hair in ritual repetition until the sweet juggernaut starts to get heavy on her chest.

 

“Love,” she entreats, scratching his head to rouse him.

 

Thor murmurs, having dozed off for a moment.

 

“Oh, sorry,” he apologises, wiping drool off his chin before making another effort to get up, this time succeeding, though not without causing the bed to bounce dramatically.

 

Valkyrie chuckles and scratches under his chin as he holds himself over her. He returns the smile; goofy and earnest like a glimmer of his former self.

 

She finds him very loveable with extra stuffing. She loves the ladders on his skin where the fluff inside his big belly has caused his seams to stretch, and she loves the perfectly graspable little pockets of chub by his hips, too.

 

There’s nothing wrong with his body this way; warriors are revered for their mass be it hard or soft. She just wishes he hadn’t come by his new shape as a result of trauma and depression driving him to overindulge in order to cope.

 

She knew a thing or two about where alcohol abuse and aimless indulgence could get a person. It had been Thor who led her out of her thousand year stupor, after all.

 

The thunder god seems sleepy even as he leans down on briefly quivering arms; depleted of their former strength but maintaining enough to hold him so that he can kiss his Valkyrie on the neck.

 

She laughs, offering support by pushing up against his chest to pillar him.

 

He laughs too, prone on the comfort of being back in a familiar bed with one of his few remaining precious people.

 

He could almost believe never wanting to leave again. How ironic it would be that a confined, cosy room in New Asgard holds the security and affirmation he has spent months in the great expanse of space searching for.

 

It would seem he ventured all that way to find something that could help him actualise who he is, and in doing so, had unwittingly journeyed farther from his answer than toward it.

 

Asgard is not a place, it’s a people, his father had told him, and Thor’s home might just be a people too…

 

“Are you sleepy, love?” Valkyrie smiles, caressing his cheek gently with her knuckles where he has paused a kiss on her shoulder as his mind wandered.

 

“No,” he denies, avoiding the opportunity to think any harder about his feelings lest they escape him in an outburst of anguish.

 

He carries on kissing; lazy as he chases the exposed plane of a shoulder. But Valkyrie stops him with a serene smile, guiding his head up to look into her eyes.

 

She confirms for herself as she gazes into the pied colours of blue and amber that there is still so, _so_ much pain and fearfulness lingering deep in his soul; latched onto it and ready to hatch but unable by Thor’s refusal. But how much longer can he hold it in?

 

“Let me, darling,” she says with a hush, her thumb etching like a silent metronome on his cheekbone. “Let me take care of you, _your majesty_.”

 

“Hah, but I am no longer—“

 

Valkyrie hushes him. She’ll hear no modesty from him about this. Tonight, she wants to remind him that he was, and _still_ is a great king.

 

She begins to sit up, and like a perfect shift between moon and sun, Thor sets as Valkyrie rises.

 

Now she is the one mantling him, and her hand brushes down his plush chest all the way to his big belly to rub.

 

“I have missed you,” he tells her, not shying away from the attention despite the concern he watches her hand with.

 

“I’ve missed you too,” she reassures, drawing his gaze to her face with a kiss.

 

He needn’t have said so; she can tell how much his heart has longed for her by the way he kisses back.

 

She’s quick to straddle him and escalate the entanglement, encouraging him to place his hands wherever he likes as she steals his breath until he has to break for air.

 

“I’ve got you,” she tells him, voice low and resilient against the shortness of her breathing as she begins to unbutton his hip-hugging cargo pants that squeeze his love handles like a bun case.

 

“I’ve got you, my love. Let me take care of you~” she maintains, going down on him and kissing his belly reverentially.

 

Thor aids her by shimmying out of his pants as she tugs them down, and she stops to lick his bulge through his underwear, eliciting a gruff moan as his cock stirs within the fabric.

 

His trousers slip off easily once they are over his thighs, and Valkyrie feels her eyes swell with desire for the sight of his fair-haired legs so plush that they chafe together when bare.

 

She takes a moment to admire him.

 

Thor doesn’t notice as he faithfully presumes what they will be needing, and strains to reach the bedside cabinet. As he turns to reach he inadvertently gives Valkyrie a glimpse of his inner thighs and the stretch-marks that ladder them.

 

Valkyrie inhales and bites her lip; feeling almost abashed, but inevitably, she pushes his legs apart and buries her face between them.

 

“H- _Hilde_ ,” Thor chuckles, a little confused. “What—what are you doing?”

 

She huffs a very intoxicated moan as she drags her tongue up the inner-seam of his barbarian-sized thigh, and Thor, for a moment, just watches her.

 

It is the second time tonight his eyes well a little. It has been a long while since he has had this kind of attention, and as good as it feels, there are bittersweet emotions rising with every gesture of devotion.

 

He quickly wipes his eyes on the back of his wrist and successfully retrieves the items he was after, holding them out to Valkyrie patiently.

 

“Oh, love,” the newly crowned queen remarks, lifting her head and looking momentarily dazed from how immersed she was in the act of worshipping his body. “Is that what you want?” she smirks.

 

Thor smiles and nods: very certain about it.

 

“Alright then, better get you warmed up,” she teases with a wink, tucking her middle and ring fingers over the waistband of his briefs and pulling them down to let his chubby cock spring free.

 

There is precum that has already darkened the front of them and the cotton is brushed by her tongue.

 

She teases him further by taking them down the rest of the way with her teeth, then pushes him back onto the bed again with an insistent hand on his chest.

 

Thor laughs admiringly as he watches her from his reclined position, unable to see fully over the obscurity of his round gut. Not knowing when to expect her mouth on him proves to be a rather delightful thing, though.

 

He gasps and tenses immediately as she licks a fat stripe from his anus to his frenulum. His little pink asshole twitches; already prepared for the idea of what she is about to do, and his cock sways and grows as she spends some time strumming the sensitive cord beneath his head.

 

The sensation sends such strong surges of pleasure through him that his thighs tremble, the relaxed muscles rippling like the bay water’s surface in a breeze, and he tenses at his middle, grunting intermittently.

 

“H-Hilde! Ah! P-please!” he gasps, voice trembling just like his body as he fists up the sheets beneath him.

 

“Turn over, love,” Valkyrie whispers with a grin, relieving her poor little prince in order to take him another way.

 

Thor groans and obediently rolls over, getting onto his hands and knees and presenting himself to her keenly.

 

“ _There’s_ a good boy,” she praises, taking the lubricant he had laid down on the bed and admiring the strap waiting for her to don.

 

She keeps her eyes on it while she grabs his buttocks, halving the two peachy globes in her hands and probing him with her tongue.

 

Thor whimpers and pushes out, welcoming her as much as possible to invite her in deep with no resistance.

 

She slides her tongue in as far as their bodies will allow; deep to the point of having her nose pressed right up in the cleft of his ass, and yet still not as deep as she wishes she could go.

 

Thor gasps again, all sweet and lilting in a way a man his size and depth of voice almost doesn’t seem capable of.

 

He shifts his weight onto one elbow then and lets his other hand wander to his cock to start stroking. He feels his belly; slung so low it obscures his access somewhat, but Valkyrie helps him by reaching between his legs and rolling his testicles in her hand.

 

He’s hefty and low-hanging like a stallion; heavy between her fingers like two ripe plums.

 

She can feel his eagerness to cum, but she won’t allow him yet.

 

“Get the rope out,” she instructs him.

 

Thor pauses, but brooks no argument.

 

He hands it to her, and grunts with arousal when she deprives him of the use of both his arms to prop himself up, binding his wrists tightly behind his back and forcing his face into the pillow.

 

“I take it I am... not to touch myself, my queen?” he smirks; excited by her dominance. “You could simply have told me not to— _ah_ ~” he whimpers as she interrupts him with the insertion of a lube-slicked finger. “I would have obeyed,” he finishes, panting.

 

“I know you would, darling. You’re such a good boy,” she agrees, but clearly not enough to release him. This deprivation is all part of a grander plan, after all.

 

"That's it, your majesty. Nice and relaxed," she coaxes, gently sliding just her middle finger in and out of him.

 

Thor makes a deep, satisfied sound in his chest as he exhales, following her every word.

 

"How's that, love?" Valkyrie smirks.

 

"Ah~ _there_ — just there," Thor moans, rocking as best he can without the use of his hands and having his face turned into the pillow as Valkyrie gently rubs his prostate.

 

"I've got you," she says adoringly, watching the giant of a man growing lucid and blissful under her ministrations.

 

He keens at a second finger, testing his binds a little in the hopes he can break free and at least smear the cum along his shaft instead of letting it dribble onto the sheets as it is doing.

 

“Oh~ Hilde,” he whines, unable to express just how affective her touch is.

 

The puckered muscle draws snug around her two fingers now and makes a sweet kissing sound as she slowly slides them back and forth.

 

He feels her tongue again. Wet and warm and quick to accompany her fingers holding him open in a scissor spread as she rims him; circling the cockled muscle and making it throb with Thor’s hitched breaths.

 

“Ah! Oh~” he laments, wanting more; wanting _bigger_ , _deeper_.

 

“Are you desperate, love?” she teases, knowing full well the potency of her actions.

 

“I am!” Thor pants, wincing and swallowing another mewl as her hand brushes his taint. “Choke me!” he cries.

 

“What?!”

 

“Please,” Thor implores, “choke me while you take me from behind!”

 

“Love...” Valkyrie pauses. “Isn’t that a little rough for tonight?”

 

"No!” he objects, "I want you to be rough! I w—I want to be punished!”

 

“Punished?” Valkyrie fixates. “Why do you want to be punished, Thor?”

 

Thor has never asked for punishment before. A little roughhousing he is more than partial to, but he has _never_ requested anything aggressive.

 

“F-for running away,” he replies, hiccupping as he starts to lose his composure. “I ran away! I am a coward! I—I am a disappointment!”

 

Valkyrie had expected tears, but not so soon. Not before he had cum and certainly not out of guilt, either.

 

She unties his wrists and pulls him into her lap immediately, holding his head in a cradle with her arms and curving herself over him protectively as she rocks the sobbing god of thunder.

 

“You are _not_ a disappointment,” she asserts. “You’re not a coward.”

 

“I am! I am weak a-and selfish! All this time I indulged while you rebuilt Asgard, and then I ran away to the stars and left you with the burden of ruling a broken kingdom!”

 

“This is not a broken kingdom,” Valkyrie disagrees. “But you, my little one... you were hurting. No one begrudges you for the time you spent grieving. We’re not ashamed of you. We love you, and we wish we could have done more to help you...”

 

Thor doesn’t have a rebuttal. But he does have plenty of tears.

 

This kind of vulnerability frightens him. Thor has been many things but unconfident is not one of them, until now.

 

When he had assured himself he had lost everything, and went into his first battle thinking he had nothing left, the universe had heard him, and found even more to take.

 

It wasn’t fair.

 

Thor is the least deserving person to suffer such fates, and what Valkyrie hates most of all is that he blames himself. He blames himself for the loss of his loved ones and he blames himself for how he handled his grief.

 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I should have protected you. I should have done more to protect you,” Valkyrie hushes.

 

Her breaths are sparse like his, but she won’t allow herself to cry. Not now. She cannot let herself succumb to guilt if she wants Thor to truly believe that he has no reason to feel guilt himself.

 

“D-do they not hate me?” he sniffles. “Do our people not despise me? Am I not a disappointment? M-my father w-would be disappointed!” he starts to sob again.

 

“No! No, love—oh sweetheart,” Valkyrie commiserates, stroking his long hair tenderly. “No one is disappointed in you. Your father... he sees you, I know he does... and he will be smiling over you, always. You could never disappoint us. Your people love you, and we will always remember you as the king you have forgotten yourself to be.”

 

He cries with unrestrained anguish for a long time. Neither of them talk. It’s just his sobs soaking into the walls and his tears soaking into the soft skin of Valkyrie’s hands as she holds his face.

 

His cheeks are flushed and sore with the rivers of tears cutting the same trail on his skin for the last half-hour, but his Valkyrie lets him cry.

 

She has to let him hurt now, but this will be the last time. She won’t let him ever be this hurt again. She vows that to herself.

 

“Thor...” she speaks up when his sobs have receded to hiccups and he is harshly scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand.

 

“Sorry... I’m sorry,” he sniffles, forcing a watery laugh at himself for showing such emotion.

 

Valkyrie tuts as a way of assuring him he needn’t apologise, and helps him upright to get some air, wiping away his tears and kissing his poor blotchy face.

 

“Little love,” she restarts, taking his head onto her shoulder. “The only person who has any ill-feeling toward you is yourself,” she enlightens. “You were brave, you were always brave. And this will always be your family whenever you need to come home. We’ll always be here for you.”

 

“I shut you out,” Thor sniffles. “I—“

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Valkyrie interjects. “That doesn’t matter. We’ve all been there. You know I have, you found me that way, remember?”

 

Thor manages another weary laugh, reminiscing about their first meeting. She had probably been an even heavier drinker than he but only half as affected by it.

 

“The drinking... did not make you ugly though,” he jests aloud.

 

Valkyrie takes it to heart.

 

“It hasn’t made you ugly either, you fool,” she chastises. “You’re beautiful. And this,” she refers to his belly with a soft caress, “is lovey too. There’s nothing ugly about your grief.”

 

Thor’s chest flutters with a broken sigh as he exhales deeply.

 

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “You continue taking great weight off my shoulders even after I have already entrusted such a heavy task to you.”

 

“Well you forget,” Valkyrie purrs as she turns her lips to his ear to nip, “I can lift more than you.”

 

Thor chuckles. He doesn’t doubt it. His Valkyrie is strong enough to hold their kingdom together and him. She is the most powerful being he has ever known. And it’s all the more humbling when she holds him like this; expressing tenderness and softness only for him.

 

“I think... I have had enough adventure for a while. I think I would like to come home,” he declares. “If you’ll have me, your majesty...”

 

“Always, darling,” Valkyrie reassures. “But I’m going to make you work your butt off, just know that,” she adds with a smirk.

 

“Gladly,” Thor beams, cuddling up to her even closer.

 

They stay like this for some time; Valkyrie rocking him gently and stroking his hair as the thunder god closes his eyes and feels the tranquillity of being home wash over him.

 

Maybe in time, when his confidence returns, he will feel worthy to lead his people again. But right now, it is enough just to return to being one of them.

 

“Now then,” Valkyrie croons, “would you like to try that again?”

 

Thor grins, tantalised by the implication, and nods.

 

She lays him down a second time, binding his wrists once more but this time above his head. He wants to see her making love to him. No longer craving a detached, invisible form of release; he believes he deserves to connect with her, and she wants that from him, too.

 

“My good boy,” she almost serenades, positioning herself between his thighs and gently working him up again with one finger.

 

“Kiss me,” the thunder god liltingly requests, craving closeness—craving romance in its purest form.

 

Valkyrie obliges, kissing him deeply on the lips and breaking frequently, making him yearn for her every time she retreats until he is chasing the space she creates between them, just to touch her lips with his again.

 

“Thor,” she grins, staying just within his reach for him to keep planting little pecks. “ _Thor_.”

 

“What? What?” he murmurs obliviously, eyes half-lidded. He refuses to stop kissing even now, so redirects his attention to her cheek, and then her jaw, her neck—

 

He gasps and gawps helplessly when she adjusts her touch to be right under his prostate, and then he collapses back into the pillows, stunned.

 

“You’re getting _too_ worked up kissing, love,” she teases. She has _other_ places she wants to put her mouth, anyway.

 

She gives him one more kiss on the lips, then starts meandering her way down his chest, stopping at his nipples to suckle each one into becoming pert and erect.

 

Thor moans, twisting his wrists above his head as his toes curl and his belly flutters. Valkyrie doesn’t relent until he begs, and even then she moves right onto the other one, fingering him all the while.

 

“S’t—s’too much—t-too much!” he cries, fresh tears running over his plump pink cheeks.

 

“Alright, love, _alright_ ~” Valkyrie soothes, leaving his sensitive nipples alone now as she attends his belly instead.

 

With her lips she brushes the coarse trail of blond hair running like a linea-nigra over his perfectly round tummy. It’s more firm than it looks, but it’s heaven to touch. Warm and smooth and decorated handsomely with purplish stripes from his hips inwards.

 

“Darling,” Valkyrie hums, adoring him. His breath stutters and he quivers like an autumn leaf when she dips her tongue into his naval.

 

“Oh’h! N-no~” he protests, discovering this hidden erogenous zone at the same time as her, and feeling the familiar climb of an orgasm. “No I’m—I’m going to—“

 

“That’s alright, love,” Valkyrie coos. “I will give you _plenty_ more of these~” she promises, using her free hand to work his shaft, rolling his foreskin right over his glans to gather the cum and lubricate him with it.  

 

The thunder god slams his feet on the mattress, losing purchase instantly against the gossamer sheets and slowly lifting them instead, to the point where his knees are almost touching his shoulders.

 

His toes curl and his legs buoy above both their heads as his lady fucks him six ways from Sunday. And eventually, with a warbling series of moans, Thor shoots a hefty load into Valkyrie’s closed fist. Some escapes even still, and spurts out between her fingers like soap suds.

 

“N’hhh~” he groans, brow freckled with beads of sweat as his weary limbs all go limp and his belly heaves; rising and falling as he gasps for air.

 

“Poor love,” Valkyrie teases.

 

“Heh... that will count toward... a decent workout,” the blissful demi-god pants.

 

She chuckles at that. No harm in him making light-hearted jokes about himself, as long as he is not starting to get depreciative.

 

“There, easy now,” Valkyrie soothes as she unties his wrists and supports him. “Are you hurting anywhere, sweetheart?”

 

Thor breathes deeply and shakes his head, wringing his wrists a little as Valkyrie rubs his lower back and encourages him to lie out on the bed.

 

“Let me see.”

 

Gently taking his hand and examining the rope burns, she reaches for the faithfully placed balm and begins to massage the soothing cream into the ligature marks.

 

She uses what’s left on his coarse hands to rub the tension out of his joints, kneading between his knuckles and pushing against his palm while intertwining their fingers.

 

The thunder god sighs with a content smile and trembles a little from the residual power of his orgasm. He moans softly when Valkyrie runs both hands up and down his arms next with dexterous fingers, working all the knots and tautness out of his muscles.

 

He isn’t very used to receiving aftercare—not that he has had enough of the kind of lovers in his life he could receive it from—but his Valkyrie does it better than anyone in all the nine realms, he is sure.

 

“Is that better, love?” she smiles down at him after sufficiently soothing both sides.

 

“It feels divine,” Thor smiles back in earnest, finally opening his eyes so he can see her as he reaches to hold her hand. “You didn’t want to...” he alludes with a glance at the strap-on.

 

“Not tonight, darling,” the patient queen declines. “Let’s save that for another time,” she smiles, rubbing a little lotion into his belly.

 

She is captivated by the way the faint blond hairs spring back under her hand; how his belly moves with her touch, too. She knows Thor wouldn’t believe her if she said so, but she honestly doesn’t think he has ever looked so magnificent.  

 

“Come on, love,” she entices. “Let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll draw a bath.”

 

Thor moans and keeps ahold of her hand, pulling her on top of him the minute she tries to leave the bed.

 

“Let us just hold one another for a while instead, hm?” he smugly decides, disallowing anything else as he keeps his Valkyrie flush to his body with his big burly arms.

 

“Thor,” Valkyrie protests through her laughter. “You need a bath, you big smelly oaf!”

 

“No, let us stay in bed!” the gentle giant bemoans.

 

Valkyrie takes a long look at him; at his care-worn face and stormy eyes and the faint freckles on his forehead and nose.

 

He could _never_ not be beautiful.

 

“Alright,” she concedes, planting a kiss over his heart before laying her head there to listen to the steady, love-struck beating. “Just for a few minutes,” she murmurs, already growing sleepy.


	2. Chapter 2

Valkyrie lets Thor make his own choices at breakfast the next morning.

 

She has tried to keep options healthy, but a traditional Asgardian diet is rather difficult to uphold given their current resources, and their people are becoming accustomed to the more readily available food Midgard has to offer after discovering a local Meny.

 

Thor is no stranger to junk food, either. He’s practically the chief authority on it. So naturally Valkyrie gives him a slight eye-narrow of disapproval when he helps himself to a pastry instead of fruit or yoghurt.

 

“I’ll have something else, too,” he patronisingly reassures like they are already an old married couple and he can read her mind.

 

Valkyrie rolls her eyes, shaking her head to dissuade a smile before sitting down and hijacking the path of his powdery fingers already reaching for a second doughnut.

 

“What? They’re not _all_ for you!” she reminds, not falling for the watery puppy-dog look he’s laying on.

 

“Fine, can I have some eggs?” he requests.

 

“Yes, of course. But I’m not your maid, you can make your own eggs,” Valkyrie counters contrarily, washing down the crisp pastry with a sip of coffee.

 

Thor grins at her wryly.

 

“My apologies, your majesty,” he corrects himself, remembering his manners and _not_ to get too familiar. She is the queen now, after all.

 

Of course, Valkyrie blatantly doesn’t encourage that kind of sentiment. Title or no title, she and Thor are equals… but it _is_ fun to give him a jab every now and then when he gets cheeky.

 

Thor moves around the kitchen with a chef’s confidence, despite having done little more in the past few years than boil a kettle or heat up a can of beans on the hob.

 

He takes a skillet off the overhead rack and dials the gas mark up as he repeatedly flicks the ignition, but after just two ticks the pan is engulfed in flames as the hob throws out a blaze, charring everything in its radius.

 

The thunder god yelps and flies back in horror, and Valkyrie quickly dials the hob down before dispersing the smoke toward the open window with a tea towel, coughing.

 

“Thor!” she berates, turning on him once the crisis is averted with the assumption that he did it on purpose, but her face falls when she sees the gentle giant shaking and balling his fists into his eyes.

 

“I’m sorry!” he chokes, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

 

“Oh Thor, love,” Valkyrie coos, quickly taking a kind tone with him as she rubs his arms comfortingly. “Were you hurt? Let me see, sweetheart.”

 

He’s really trembling; like she has never seen before, and when his breaths come in short she realises what is happening to him. He doesn’t have any external injuries, but she knows internally he probably feels like he is having a heart-attack.

 

“Come here, love, come over here,” she encourages, ushering him to the couch on the other side of the open plan room and sitting him down. “It’s alright, there’s no harm done. You’re safe,” she tells him.

 

Be it the flames or the smell of smoke or simply the suddenness of being frightened like that, Thor finds himself gripped by flashbacks of Ragnarok, and of the battlefield.

 

“No, no, no,” he croaks softly, using his hands as blinders and rocking himself in an effort to distract his mind.

 

“Thor,” Valkyrie hushes, not attempting to interrupt his ritual by pulling him in for a hug, but still offering him a bridge to comfort by rubbing his back in big soothing circles.

 

“I don’t want to fight,” he sobs, “I don’t want to fight anymore, I don’t want to!”

 

Only when he seeks touch from her does she hold him. He curls in on himself like a burning leaf and presses his head to her thigh, and Valkyrie helps him to lie down as she strokes his hair and murmurs sweet assurances to him that he doesn’t have to fight ever again.

 

When Thor finally calms down it’s like he almost doesn’t remember what happened. It’s as if all that distress came from nowhere and disappeared back into nowhere, leaving him as confused by it as anyone else.

 

He continues to jitter for a little while after, but forgets the initial attack nearly as quickly as it happened. Just having his head in Valkyrie’s lap as she touches his face with feather-light fingertips and gathers his hair up off his neck into a low ponytail is soothing beyond any power that seeks to unsettle him.

 

They sit like this for almost an hour, but eventually Valkyrie encourages them to move when Thor is calm and steady in her arms.

 

“Why don’t you go and have that bath now, love?” she suggests, seeing as they fell asleep last night before getting to that stage. “I’ll cook your eggs for you.”

 

Thor nods silently, accepting her help in getting up. He is still a little fazed—a little shaken—but he gives her a briefly cheery smile before seeing himself to the bathroom.

 

There is a lingering burning smell from the assault the bottom of the skillet suffered, and Valkyrie knows what the scent must make Thor think of.

 

She was there too when they unleashed Surtur.

 

But it isn’t just that. All battlefields are tinged with the scent of burning. She has been on enough to know, and so has Thor.

 

For her, each one is little more than a regrettable memory. She feels guilt and loss and contempt at times still—spending all those years drinking to forget— but she isn’t incapacitated by those memories anymore. She is in control of her future and pays little mind to how her past might like to sabotage it.

 

For Thor, however, it seems like the memories of war are beginning to carry less fond or, less _glorious_ notions. Instead there are much more grim attachments developing.

 

As a boy he was raised to take sport in battle. He had loved it and he was victorious at it. But now, carving their way underneath the surface of those recollections are long, winding chambers bringing both fresh and perhaps latent trauma; molten and bubbling, and primed to erupt at the slightest prompt.

 

What the thunder god fears though, is that without alcohol to numb his anxiety, these outbursts might become something he is going to have to face frequently…

 

Valkyrie goes ahead and fries up an additional side of breakfast to his eggs. Bacon, mushroom, sausage, black pudding, hash brown, beans, tomato and two slices of toast buttered on both sides.

 

Not long after, Thor returns from his bath looking rosy and well-scrubbed. His hair is tied in a messy bun on top of his head and he has given his beard a groom, too. It’s one of the biggest smiles Valkyrie has seen him manage since he came home when the thunder god spies his bountiful plate waiting for him.

 

He thanks her heartily, rubbing his hands together as he appreciates the meal before grabbing his cutlery.

 

“Hold on,” Valkyrie smirks when after his first bite he trickles grease down his chin. He makes a face like some pompous duchess enjoying a pampering as she braids his beard for him to prevent it dipping in his breakfast, and he thanks her comically, earning a tickled laugh from his queen.

 

“What is on our agenda for today, then?” Thor asks through a forkful of food, washing down his only half-chewed mouthful with a chug of coffee before smacking his lips.

 

Valkyrie gives him the ‘are you serious?’ stare, but warrants only a smile so big and goofy that Thor’s eyes disappear into creases.

 

“Well,” she perseveres, “I was thinking we could go through your closet. You left a lot of clothes here before you went away… _and_ , I’m sure your friends would like to see you. They’ll have missed you a great deal.”

  
Thor nods intently, pushing a bit of everything onto his fork as he chews loudly.

 

Not exactly the gruelling kingly duties he had imagined her taking him on, but he is delighted nonetheless.

 

After breakfast they head to the house on the knoll.

 

Though relatively isolated and making its bones as a fishing community, Tønsberg is very well suited to the remaining Asgardians indeed. Valkyrie can be proud of what she has done for her people.

 

It has been a while since Thor has had the chance to admire their new settlement through sober eyes, in fact. He had come to know how to navigate their town fairly well in a drunken haze, but rarely did he see it during the daylight.

 

Even on a grey day like today though, there is something homely about the architecture and the port, like it’s in their blood to be here; like coming back to their roots, as it were.

 

 

Thor finds himself a little short of breath trying to keep up with Valkyrie’s quick march to the crag where his cabin sits, but she waits for him before entering and gives him a smile as she pats his back.

 

“Thor!” Korg exclaims when he sees his friend’s return. It appears he hasn’t moved from that spot since he left.

 

“How are you?” the thunder god cheers, greeting his companion with their personal handshake.

 

“I’m so glad’ya’ back! Miek went into hibernation after you left,” Korg points out, gesturing to the little creature who just waves at Thor. “Yeah nah he was really depressed, man. But I took the liberty of stocking up the keg room. We got a WiFi password now too, ever since that old guy down the road kept using ours to torrent sheep porn. What a perv amirite? Oh an’ you’ll never guess what—that dickhead has been hazing me non-stop since you went away!” Korg informs with mellow ease despite hardly pausing for breath.

 

“Noobmaster?” Thor queries, face darkening as he approaches the TV, ready to stand off with an old enemy one thousandth his age.

 

“Yeah, Noobmaster69—”

 

“Ahem,” Valkyrie interjects, arms folded as she leans in the doorway. “Korg,” she cautions, “you and Thor are going to have to start doing things other than playing video games all day. As his friend I expect you to help him avoid falling back into old habits that won’t help him.”

 

“Yes ma’am,” the Kronan acknowledges with a salute, perhaps underestimating what these changes will mean.

 

“From now on, you’re allowed three hours of game-time between 12pm and 10pm, alright?”

 

“Shit a brick! Three hours? But that’s twenty one hours less than we normally play!” the sedimentary warrior rebels.

 

Thor offers a half-hearted laugh, trying not to appear wounded by his friend’s displeasure at sacrificing their time playing video games for his sake.

 

Being back in his house—seeing the state of it with a clear head—Thor doesn’t feel any sense of relief or belonging. There’s no nostalgia for the past five years. It’s just a blur of dank and misery.

 

He is hoping that’s a good sign though; that already he has grown since he was last here. But he’s not out of the rut yet.

 

“Korg I... I appreciate that this is a big change and I-I have no right to come home and suddenly ask of you to change your ways... but I have a long way to go before I can be the man I want to be and-and your support... it would mean a lot to me... if I did not have to fight this alone...”

 

“Thor!” Korg cries, getting up and tossing aside the controller, hitting Miek, “man I knew you had it in you. First he’s thinking about his mental health, next he’s gonna’ become a vegan. Look he’s already dressing like one!” he exclaims, referring to Thor’s bohemian looking cardigan. “This guy’s my best friend. Can you believe it?” he professes, taking Thor by the shoulders and showing him off to Valkyrie like _anyone_ could be more proud of Thor than her.

 

“Right,” Valkyrie acknowledges with a smirk, “well just for today you can play your game. The curfew starts tomorrow,” she states.

 

“Thank you. Thank you Mrs. Thor!” Korg calls after her.

 

Valkyrie shoots him a wide-eyed warning look.

 

“Sorry, I mean your majesty,” he corrects.

 

“That’s better,” she reprimands, trying not to get caught smiling.

 

The god of thunder takes up a controller then and slumps down in his chair.

 

“Ah-ah, cupboards first,” Valkyrie reminds.  
  
  
“Ah! Yes!” he recalls, getting back up and coming to heel quicker than a sheepdog at Crufts.

 

They go through Thor’s meagre wardrobe together and see what clothes are salvageable from having been worn to death, and what items would be better suited as rags for cleaning.

 

“You have so many nice outfits on this side,” Valkyrie points out, extoling some of the more stylish items that he wore as a Midgardian civilian. But everything from his flannel shirts to his jeans are currently compacted all at one end of his cupboard so he doesn’t have to be reminded of what he can no longer fit into.

 

“I… I should probably get rid of those,” he mutters, glancing balefully at the smart pair of light-wash pants Valkyrie offers him. “None of those fit me anymore so I uh… I should get rid of them,” the thunder god repeats.

 

“That’s a shame; I bet they look good on you.”

  
  
“Yes, they did,” Thor half-smiles, admiring the handsome denim jacket as Valkyrie continues going through the rack.

 

“That suits you,” she smirks, catching sight of the garment.

 

Having been a royal most of his life, Thor had little choice as to the colours he was allowed to sport, and being a warrior, it was rare he should don anything impractical or casual. Certainly nothing that wouldn’t be fit for immediate battle.

 

Visits to Earth that required him to dress down were some of the freest moments Thor had back then, and he rather fancied himself as a stylish and pedestrian fellow when he could make his own fashion choices.

 

More than just the sorrow of having outgrown his favourite clothes, however, was the grief of seeing the things people had purchased for him. Jane and Darcy had played quite a part in shaping Thor’s sense of Midgardian fashion. He feels like he is letting them down by no longer having a body deemed possible of flattery by those clothes anymore.

 

“I… my arms are… too big for this jacket now… I fear it would scarcely button across my chest anymore,” The thunder god ruminates, holding the grey jacket in his hands longingly.

  
Valkyrie notices his reluctance to put it in the growing ‘get rid’ pile, and gently takes it from him.  
  
  
“If you like it, you should keep it,” she supports. “You never know, you might fit into it again one day.”

 

While Thor feels doubtful of that, it’s a nice thought, and so he decides to hold onto several things in the hope he will one day wear them again.

 

Regarding his less tasteful purchases; namely sweatpants and cardigans, it takes a little more convincing to get him to part with certain items. He is _very_ fond of sweatpants, but Valkyrie promises she will get him some new ones if he can bear to part with the truly tattered pairs that are wearing at the crotch and thighs.

 

It ends up taking a while. Korg begins calling up every now and then to see if Thor is ready to play Fortnite, but clearing out his wardrobe had been a good suggestion on Valkyrie’s part.

 

Just reclaiming a little bit of order in one aspect of his life has Thor feeling much better after his incident that morning, and once they’re finished he feels like he has _actually_ earned the right to indulge in video games.

 

Despite several invitations-turned-implorations to join them, Valkyrie leaves the boys to it, spending the afternoon distributing Thor’s evicted clothing amongst the eager seamstresses at the town hall who inform her they intend to make bunting and quilts out of the fabric.

 

Thor can decide for himself if he wants to start moving his belongings into her house. They haven’t really talked about their living situation yet, but while the thunder god is still finding his footing being back on Earth and re-joining his community, it is a comfortably unspoken arrangement.

 

The jacket situation is something Valkyrie keeps coming back to that afternoon though, and when it seems like Thor is comfortable being with Korg for the rest of the day, she slips away into town to do some shopping.

 

She presumes that Thor will make his own way home tonight should he return at all.

 

He doesn’t appear until the early hours, but she had been sleeping lightly in case of such an unannounced arrival and it’s not a surprise that he is drunk.

 

Shortly after leaving the house she had begun to wonder if this would happen, so she knows she cannot be mad at him since she _had_ technically granted him the opportunity for a night of reminiscing, but her level of concern will be determined when she sees just how bad off he is.

 

Thor is a happy drunk when he has got a buzz going, but when he is borderline legless he is weepy and overly romantic.

 

Evidently, the two went hard tonight.

 

“My love!” Thor yells, swaying in the street as he calls up to the window. “My queen-hic-my valkyrie queen!”

 

At first it is slightly amusing, and Valkyrie humours him by appearing at the window like Juliette on the balcony.

 

“Yes, I’m here. Come inside you oaf,” she calls down, keeping her own voice low.

 

Thor squints, trying to bring his eyes into focus now that he can vaguely see her face.

 

The moon hangs low above the thatched roof, providing a generous silvery stream of light that haloes his queen in her nightgown; hair unpinned and ringlets all about her face, her cheeks naturally rosy and her skin completely unmarred despite her familiarity with battle.

 

“My god,” Thor murmurs, echoing the same sound of surprise he held when he very first realised what she was. “My love!” he cries again like a dying beast. “Marry me!”

 

“No. Come inside, Thor,” she maintains, trying not to laugh. To him it isn’t funny, she knows. In his drunken state his heart is on his sleeve and he is being very serious, but she cannot possibly acquiesce to anything he demands this evening.

 

In order to have _gotten_ this drunk he must have consumed about two shipments of beer, that’s not safe even by a demi-god’s metabolic capabilities.

 

“No,” he refuses, “I _won’t_ ,” turning grumpy and petulant in response to being rejected. “Why don’t you-hic-come down here...” he pauses to find his centre of gravity, “and make me!”

 

Valkyrie leaves the window then, and Thor sways smugly, seemingly thinking he has won. That is, until he sees the door open and Valkyrie come storming toward him meaning business.

 

The thunder god gives a yelp not unlike the kind when he recounts his tale of Loki as the snake, realising he is in trouble, and attempting to flee, screaming nonsense in a high-pitched voice.

 

It’s no difficult feat to apprehend him, and Valkyrie hushes him as she throws the drunken lump of a god over her shoulder and hefts him back to the house.

 

“Oh no,” Thor grunts; a warning of sorts before he retches and the sound of vomit splashes as it hits the cobblestones behind her—and only _just_ before she gets through the front door no less.

 

“Thor,” she sighs, bouncing him on her shoulder to get a better grip on him, but apparently acting as an inconsequential punishment too as the poor thunder god moans in displeasure.

 

It is a little trickier to use delicacy as she lowers him into bed this time. She more or less dumps him there, in fact, as she goes to fetch a bucket.

 

Thor wriggles, trying to get off the bed so he can follow her to hold her and kiss her, but he is unable in this state.

 

Valkyrie returns with a glass of water and instructs him to swill and spit. Thor just goes right ahead and swallows.

 

“Let’s get you out of your clothes,” she mutters, moving onto the next task of undressing the squirming hunk.

 

“ _Get_ me... _out_ of my _clothes_?” Thor bellows, struggling to maintain a consistent volume in his voice. “At _least_ buy me a _drink_ first,” he insists, thinking himself very smooth by the grin on his face and the twinkle in his eye.

 

“Oh, I think you’ve had _quite_ enough!” the patient warrior parries, slipping his cardigan the rest of the way off his arms and removing his jumper next.

 

Thor huffs as there is some resistance to getting his big head through the collar; his belly bounces as Valkyrie gives a good tug to free him.

 

He starts to sway again, clearly made a bit disoriented by the brief lapse of darkness there, but when his eyelids flutter and he clicks into focus again, he smiles at his Valkyrie like he is seeing her for the first time.

 

“Nearly there, cutie,” she teases him, unbuttoning his pants next.

 

Thor has the good sense to lay down for this part, seemingly calm now as he just focuses on Valkyrie.

 

“Kiss me,” he drawls, harking back to their evening before this.

 

“Thor, there’s sick in your beard. I’m not kissing you,” she jibes.

 

She glances away to take his pants off, but when she next looks up Thor has strewn a broad arm across his face and appears to be sniffling.

 

“Thor,” she appeals, tilting her head sympathetically. She had intended to put him in some pyjamas, but undressing him was enough of a chore, so instead she lies next to him, leaving him in just his underpants and pulling the covers up over them.

 

“I am untrustworthy,” Thor hiccups. “I’m—a mess!”

 

“Well, right now you are,” Valkyrie agrees, rubbing his chest under the sheets with a warm hand to try and soothe him. She can’t help feeling at least partly responsible for this anyway.

 

She wants to look after Thor, but it will be a long time before he can help her rule the kingdom again and in the meantime she cannot let her duties fall to the wayside. She had thought it would be an easy-going day letting him reconnect with his friends, but she realises she should have probably had the beers confiscated before leaving them alone.

 

It’s not Thor’s fault. For five years he leaned heavily on alcohol to make living bearable. She can’t expect him to suddenly have perfect self-control and abstain cold turkey. _She_ certainly can’t do that.

 

In moderation of course—but even now she still hasn’t given up drinking. Drinking is a part of their culture... just not to the extremes that Thor has taken it…

 

The thunder god whimpers, suddenly all his gladness and romanticisms swept up in a flurry of grief.

 

It would seem that it has reached a point where even alcohol cannot keep it at bay.

 

“Little love,” Valkyrie coos. It hurts her to see him affected like this. Not just by his pain but by the damage of drinking so much.

 

In a small place in the back of her mind she even wonders if he had taken to it because of her; because of the example she set and how easy she made it seem to be numb and indifferent just by drinking.

 

“I’m cold,” Thor complains, shivering as he tries to get close to her for warmth.

 

“Sorry,” Valkyrie apologises, not sure whether she means for letting him get cold, or whether for... everything else. “Come here, darling. I'll hold you,” she promises, taking the gentle giant in her arms and rubbing some warmth into his extremities. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Thor says again.

 

There is a soberness in his words that time; the gentleman in him that feels burdened with guilt by the mere implication that he is causing trouble for someone with what he has been led to believe are his heavy-handed and oafish tendencies.

 

“I’m horrible,” he whimpers.

 

“Sweetheart,” Valkyrie discourages, kissing the top of his head as she tries to soothe him to sleep. “You’re not horrible. I love you.”

 

Thor sniffles.

 

“I love you,” he says right back, sounding weepy and a little unaware of himself. “My belly hurts,” he says right after with a wince.

 

“Aw, little love,” Valkyrie purrs as she begins rubbing his tummy.

 

It isn’t nice to see Thor hurting emotionally _or_ physically.

 

Yet there _is_ a kind of solace to be found in thinking that whatever she can do for him now can make up for what she did not during those five years. She feels relief that the opportunity to help him, just as he once helped her, has _not_ been lost.

 

But more than that, the truly _nice_ thing, is to have him in her arms again, close to her heart where she can protect him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't realise how unpopular thorkyrie is it's pretty lonely out here (◞‸◟；)


	3. Chapter 3

Thor sleeps in through breakfast _and_ lunch the next day. Valkyrie was lucky to escape his bear hug and the particularly bad morning breath he had, but he barely even stirred as she slipped out of bed, so she left him to sleep off his hangover.

 

In the meantime she is able to complete a few kingly duties about the town and make an important call.

 

It is late afternoon when Thor finally wakes up. Valkyrie can hear him shuffling around upstairs, and it sounds like he had the sense to amble into the shower and groom himself before making an appearance.

 

That’s most fortunate, as their guest arrived a little over an hour ago and is also currently trying to suppress laughter as they listen to the thunder god singing to himself through the floorboards.

 

“Hangover’s worn off then,” Valkyrie presumes, making a face at the man opposite her. His huge arms take up most of the kitchen table, but his manners and diction have greatly improved since she first met him.

 

They assume an ‘act natural’ pose as they hear the thunder god come cantering down the stairs.

 

“Hilde?” he calls before reaching the bottom. “Hilde, are you—” he stops still to assess the unfamiliar person occupying his chair at the table, but the way his face lights up when he recognises him is like a little boy on Christmas morning.

 

“Banner!” Thor cries as Bruce and Valkyrie meet him with smiles.

 

“Hey, buddy,” Bruce returns the greeting, getting up to hug Thor and knocking the table at the same time he bumps his head on the beams.

 

“Careful,” Valkyrie winces, feeling sorry for her ceiling as the nudge knocks a bit of dust and plaster down.

 

“Sorry,” Bruce smiles helplessly, letting Thor lead him to the slightly more spacious living room like a child wanting to show off their toys to a relative.

 

“How have you been?” Thor beams, going in for another hug.

 

“Good, yeah! _Really_ good,” Bruce affirms.

 

He has been busy at the Avenger’s compound these past few months as their unofficial admin, but he’s not lying when he say he’s been doing well. Everyone has, in fact.

 

“Pepper’s our new exec, I made Scott chief engineer, uh, we’ve opened a trust in Tony’s name taking on apprentices,” he lists off in a contemplative drawl. “Uhhh... Sam is our new Cap now! Did you know that?”

 

“I did not, that’s wonderful,” Thor replies, head still nuzzled in Bruce’s chest.

 

By common standard the hug should have ended ages ago, but Thor hasn’t let go yet, and Bruce, while a little perturbed, isn’t about to do so first.

 

He throws a slightly questioning glance at Valkyrie as if to ask, ‘is he okay?’ but she just wrinkles her nose with an encouraging smile while she rinses plates.

 

“Well, I uh, I’m sure we’ll catch you up on all that in better detail later,” the good doctor mumbles, “how have _you_ been, anyway? Travelling with the guardians must have really been somethin’, huh?” he excites, thinking to direct the conversation somewhere else in hopes of getting Thor to sit and talk rather than cling like a baby orang-utan.

 

Thor doesn’t answer the question, and Bruce tries to draw away so he can see the thunder god’s face. To his horror, Thor starts to sniffle.

 

“Thor?”

 

“Love?” Valkyrie prompts when Bruce looks at her again for help. “Come on now,” she tuts, tea-towel in hand and hand on hip as she awaits some kind of response.

 

“My apologies,” Thor smiles, pulling away to wipe his nose on the back of his wrist and pat Bruce on the shoulder appreciatively.

 

“Ah, Thor,” Bruce sympathises; finally free to take a seat on the couch with him.

 

Thor tries to deter the seemingly inevitable conversation about his little breakdown by asking if Bruce has heard of Netflix and if he has been enjoying Game of Thrones.

 

“Or—oh my god! Please tell me, you _must_ have seen Vikings? It is _truly_ excellent, Valkyrie and I—”

 

Bruce wishes he had the heart to interrupt, but Thor is so animated that he simply lets him ramble on.

 

He didn’t _just_ come here at Valkyrie’s request. He’d been meaning to pay them a visit for a while now, but it took an invitation to remind him, and as much as he wants to listen to Thor enthuse about the joys of what Midgardian pastimes he has discovered, Bruce is more concerned right now with understanding just where the thunder god is at emotionally and mentally.

 

When he had first seen him after those tumultuous five years, it wasn’t his body or his personal hygiene that worried him. It was the hollowness in his usually smiling eyes and the way he so quickly slipped into sadness and fear at the mention of Thanos.

 

It was no understatement to say that Thor’s trauma took the biggest and certainly most noticeable toll on him out of all of them, but then again, not everybody on the team lost the same things he did.

 

People seemed to forget that when Thor joined them in battle the first time, he had just come from two of his own. Bruce had been there with him during both events, after all.

 

Thor lost his family and his home in a devastating end. He had been enucleated, forced to kill a sibling, forced to destroy his own kingdom, and then, with next to no reprieve, had all of his remaining family aside from his Valkyrie murdered in front of him before leaping right the worst battle any of them have ever faced.

 

It’s absolutely no surprise that Thor has succumbed to such trauma. From a psychological standpoint, Bruce wonders if it’s even possible for a brain to process that amount of grief.

 

Considering that, Bruce wonders if Thor hasn’t simply repressed a lot of what happened.

 

Deeming himself responsible for the deaths of half the universe for his failure to kill Thanos the first time is evidently the freshest wound in his mind. But while already carrying around the pain of thinking he had failed his people and his family—it must have been unbearable those past five years.

 

When Bruce found Thor, he was full of regret and fear. He had feared that his friends would ostracise him for his hasty, incensed response to the man who taunted him once for not killing him the way he should have. He feared facing a world without the people he missed.

 

Thor’s confidence was all but diminished, and Bruce still feels a sting of pain for his own failure to provide him with the comfort he so, _so_ desperately needed back then.

 

“Anyway, to what do we owe this visit?” Thor chirps, alerting Bruce to the fact he must have been giving Thor the impression he’d been listening all this time. He’d really meant to be as well.

 

“Ah, well…” Bruce begins pensively; “this uh...” he glances back at Valkyrie who finally joins his cause.

 

“Bruce came here to help you, love,” she brazenly announces, striding over with purpose in her step and taking a perch in the chair next to Thor.

 

“H-help me with what? I’m doing well. Aren’t… aren’t I doing well?” the thunder god insists, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

 

“Thor,” she begins with more care in her tone, sitting forward intimately to rest a hand over his, “you’ve only been back a day and you’ve already been drunk. Remember you said—to Korg—you said you’ve still got a ways to before—”

 

“Well maybe I prefer being a coward then!” Thor interrupts, surprising the pair with his brashness.

 

“Love,” Valkyrie soothes, rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb as Bruce places a gentle hand near his nape.

 

The physical contact grounds him, and suddenly he is recoiling with shame at his outburst.

 

“I thought I wanted to be better,” Thor whimpers, “but nothing hurts when I’m drunk! I can’t just let go of it I—they’re-they’re always there. He’s always there, s-saying I—I should have gone for the head,” he cries, keening off into a sob.

 

Bruce gives a gentle tut as he begins rubbing Thor’s back.

 

“Only when I drink am I able to forget,” he sniffles.

 

Bruce and Valkyrie share a glance then. They’re both feeling the same thing—the same pain—Thor’s pain.

 

“Darling, I know better than anyone how easy it is to just drink away your fears and your regrets. But the more you do it, the more it takes to forget, and eventually... even drinking can’t help… you need something else. Something constructive, sweetheart,” Valkyrie calmly imparts.

 

The thunder god sniffs, anger at feeling cornered subsiding and openness taking its place as he remembers that these are his friends, and they want to help him.

 

“We’ve all got hang-ups,” Bruce reassures. “And it’s not a competition but… buddy you’ve been through some pretty rough stuff. And I mean stuff that even— heck, I dunno’—I mean I can’t think’a _anyone_ that could handle half the shit you went through. But… I guess that’s why you’re the strongest Avenger.”

 

Thor meets Bruce’s gaze, eyes watery and puppy-like as a shy smile tucks into the corner of his cheek when he finds Bruce smiling right back.

 

“You really mean that?” he dares to believe, a glimmer of confidence lighting his eyes.

 

“I mean the strongest emotionally. The Hulk could still kick yer ass,” Bruce amends, welcoming the tackle as Thor laughs and barrels into him.  


“We shall just see about that! Let’s go, right now, me and you big guy!”

 

“No! Not in here,” Valkyrie admonishes; her tone firm but her face warm and joyful at seeing Thor’s playful arrogance return.

 

“Okay, okay, come on, you can be the strongest—you’re the strongest,” Bruce concedes when Thor tries getting him into a headlock.

 

He returns his hand to Thor’s shoulder then to be serious again for a moment.

 

“All that matters is… we got each other to lean on. If anyone can understand what you’re going through Thor, it’s us, your friends.”

 

Thor nods and sniffles, but he’s shedding happy tears this time as he goes to use the back of his wrist again to wipe his nose. He’s intercepted by Valkyrie as she offers him a tissue.

 

“Bruce is here to help you, darling. We all are. You don’t have to better yourself alone,” she explains with a loving smile.

 

“Right,” Bruce agrees, feeling like this is already progress. “ _And_ , I brought you somethin’,” he remembers, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the device. “I thought it was about time you had one’a these, and since you’re back on Earth you’ll be glad to know it’s way less expensive to call us with this.”

 

Thor chuckles, tearing up again at the thoughtfulness of the gift as Bruce hands him the phone.

 

When he is alone, tormented by the memories of the people he has lost, it can be hard to feel grateful no matter how much he tells himself he should be. Being reminded of who he has left though, and just how wonderful they are, the word gratitude doesn’t even do the feeling justice.

 

“That things got a lotta’ memory so you’ve got plenty of room to add stuff, but I already put some songs on there and some audiobooks—there’s all this information about mindfulness, it’s really amazing, helps me a lot.”

 

Bruce isn’t quick to get excited about things to the point of gushing, but Thor can trust in his friend’s suggestion if the harmony he’s found with his other self is proof.

 

“Also,” he continues, “meditate. Just take some time every morning to clear your mind and find peace with yourself before you start the day. And you can do it anytime, too! Once you get good at just cancelling out the noise around you you can do it anywhere. Anyway,” he concludes, catching himself rambling, “your phone is linked to my account so feel free to buy any books you want, music, whatever, it’s on me.”

 

“Bruce,” Valkyrie mouths, “that’s very generous.”

 

“Nah, it’s the least I could do,” the kind-hearted scientist shrugs, giving a bashful smile.

 

“Thank you, Banner,” the thunder god grins tearily, leaning in for another hug.

 

“Ah, get in here big guy,” Bruce reciprocates.

 

Seeing Thor this happy again is like seeing the sun shining after a very long storm. It makes Valkyrie truly hopeful that with the love and support of his friends, they can get their sunshine back in a good place.

 

“I’m gunna’ make some tea,” she announces, excusing herself before she starts getting misty-eyed too.

 

Bruce ends up staying for dinner, and it makes a nice change as well as a nice example of ways Thor can improve his mental health when they all pitch in to cook.

 

Under supervision Thor has just two beers that night, and in such good company he doesn’t once feel drawn to more.

 

They laugh and reminisce, and Bruce takes the time to bring Thor up to speed on how the other Avengers are doing while assuring him he is still considered one of them.

 

After showing Thor all the features of his new phone, Bruce catches the time and says that he should get home. Valkyrie offers to drive him to the airport but he informs her that he came in the Quinjet.

 

She doesn’t let him leave without a generous Tupperware of left-overs and some dessert though.

 

The pair wave him off then, and Bruce says that he will let everyone know they’re doing well.

 

“Do not be a stranger!” Thor calls after him, hoping that maybe he can even return with him next time for a visit.

 

They finish dessert with some more than pleasant snuggling under the big sheepskin throw while watching a show about pottery. Thor hasn’t looked so happy in a long time Valkyrie notices as she’s feeding him rich cheesecake while he lays with his head in her lap watching TV.

 

Perhaps a domestic life of simple pleasures, surrounded by good food and good people is all Thor is really yearning for.

 

Not a throne or a new kingdom, but a home and a family to share it with.

 

Once retired to bed, Thor lounges with his belly out, looking proud and relaxed like a big lion in the sunshine as he watches Valkyrie brush through her dark locks before bed.

 

“There’s a face I recognise,” she comments when she catches him staring.

 

“What’s that?” Thor chuckles, not taking his eyes off her.

 

“Are you in the mood for something?” the warrior queen teases, approaching the bed in a very sultry way.

 

Thor gets excited quickly, welcoming her onto the bed and letting her straddle him. She begins kneading his chest like a cat, purring when Thor makes the comparison out-loud.

 

He laughs deep in his belly, making it bounce like a perfectly shaped jelly as he places both hands on Valkyrie’s waist.

 

“How should we proceed?” he asks, eager to escalate things immediately.

 

“How shall we _proceed_?” Valkyrie parrots, teasing as she leans down and takes his earlobe between her teeth, briefly tugging and feeling the hairs rise on his neck. “How about I get a _nice_ _big_ peg _just_ for you, and _pound_ you into the mattress?” she suggests.

 

Thor’s eyelashes flutter as he exhales an equally fluttery breath.

 

“Yes,” he sighs, moaning when she kisses his neck. “Yes please I would like that~”

 

“I’ve got you,” Valkyrie grins, voice _low_ and _close_ and _promising_ as she reaches for the cabinet closest her and retrieves the strap.

 

Thor does his bit by reaching to the opposite side and handing her the pink tube, which she squeezes a generous amount onto two fingers from before going down on him again.

 

“Do you want to stay on your back, love?” she asks him after one quick bob of her head between his legs.

 

“N-no,” the stuttering giant declines, “I’ll turn over.”

 

He presents himself prettily for his Valkyrie once he’s on his hands and knees, moaning a deep sigh of content as she pushes between his shoulder blades to get him to lay his head on the pillow.

 

She drags her nails gently over his skin then, leaving only faint marks down the gusset of his broad back before reaching the dimples of Venus at the base of his spine. He curves so nicely under her palm; his skin is warm and peachy—pliant to the touch—and smooth like ambrosia.

 

His voice is also lovely. Just as lovely as his body, and when she slides the first finger in, and he gives a gentle hum, all she can think about from that moment on is how much she wants to be inside him.

 

He takes it so well, all the way from one to four fingers with nothing but gratitude and sweet keening moans of pleasure. When she uses her mouth on him that when the real noise starts.

 

The feeling of her tongue inside him makes his cock ache, and the _squirming_ _wetness_ of it makes him think of something alien and arousing.

 

“How does that feel? Are you comfortable, my love?” Valkyrie checks in, lost for that time just in prepping him probably far more than she needed to.

 

“It feels nice—it feels so good,” he lilts, face smushed into the pillow as he follows with another little moan when she removes her fingers.

 

“Are you ready for something bigger?” she asks, forcing herself to advance now despite being able to enjoy seeing him like this for hours.

 

“Yes, I’m ready,” Thor murmurs, deeply relaxed to the point of almost dozing off already.

 

He leaks onto the bed, his hard pink cock weeping a steady trickle of translucent nectar into the sheets.

 

He has refrained all this time from touching of course. No need to bind his wrists; the obedient god longs to please his queen and needs little more than her word to abstain.

 

She doesn’t need to warn him when she is about to breach him, he can feel the slippery head of the dildo circling his hole; the ridges rubbing along his cleft as Valkyrie lets him feel the size and girth and details of it first.

 

He takes a deep breath, knowing the next time she rubs the big black head between his cheeks it’s going all the way in. He doesn’t tense, just exhales slowly as he feels the push; steady and smooth as the notches pass through his pouting sphincter one at a time.

 

“Good boy,” Valkyrie praises him, rubbing the small of his back to help him stay relaxed.

 

“Ohhh~” he groans, long and languid when she reaches the hilt and pulls right back out just as slowly.

 

“Does that feel good, love?” she smirks.

 

Thor nods ardently, trying to maintain his focus. He whimpers when she catches his prostate with the lip of the dildo.

 

“Two more,” she tells him. “Nice and slow... then I’ll _really_ give it to you.”

 

Thor grunts as she goes back in, slow like she promised but to the point of being laborious and taunting.

 

It’s not easy taking all that length. Even for a big guy like Thor, it takes some work to get comfortable. Lucky for him, his Valkyrie is an _expert_ at this.

 

He’s sufficiently used to the feeling when she pulls out for the last time, and more than ready to receive a change of pace.

 

“H’ah~ Hilde,” he moans, arching his back as she starts fucking with less depth and more speed, bumping his prostate repeatedly until he’s trembling like he’s about to—

 

“Ah! Almost—”

 

The whole room is charged with his energy; pregnant like the sky with a storm, and as he starts to crackle like a human lightning bolt, winding up for his orgasm, Valkyrie hushes him, and reins it in.

 

The god and his thunder are under her control.

 

She hushes him with a smirk, easing off to deny him as she runs her hands up and down his back. Her palms gather static as they glide over his electrified skin; it doesn't hurt her, it's little more than a tingle, but it’s exciting.

 

“N’ _oh_!” Thor protests, “please, do not make me wait!”

 

“Take it _easy_ ,” she coos, finding it hard not grin at the state of him: this _big_ , _powerful_ , _beautiful_ man, prone and _completely_ at her mercy.

 

"Nnn~ _Hilde_ ~" he heaves; feeling tormented as she goes in deep and slow again, right to the hilt. “No more,” he wails, “no more!”

 

“Oh you’ll take more,” Valkyrie assures him, pulling out slowly and asking, “is this too much as well, _your majesty_?” before pushing right up into his prostate and circling her hips to _really_ bully him.

 

His back drops, and he grunts before the sensation hits his synapses, sending a deep cry erupting from the pit of his belly; guttural and pleading like a snared beast as the sound rakes along his throat and _finally_ , he explodes like the first crack of lightning right overhead.

 

"Ah! Ah! _Ah_!" he gasps, his whole body stuttering as he ejaculates all over the sheets and himself; cum shooting as far as his chin.

 

Valkyrie keeps on rubbing the head of her cock against the little bulb inside him, sending spasms hard enough to jolt his mighty frame and knock whimper after whine out of his agape mouth.

 

He wails again as he buries his face full into the pillow, groaning like an animal as he pants and jitters even after his queen pulls out.

 

“ _What_ a good boy~” she croons, feeling the air around them clear completely now that the thunder god has released his storm.

 

All he can do is moan feebly and let his hips collapse on the bed; as if having the peg inside him was the only thing holding him up.

 

“Are you hurting anywhere, love?” Valkyrie faithfully enquires as she lies next to him and brushes back the sweat-plastered tangles of hair from his face. “You worked so hard,” she praises him.

 

Thor smiles: exhausted but satisfied beyond belief. “No,” he declines in a wispy voice, “I do not feel any pain.”

 

Valkyrie would like to take that as meaning that he feels no kind of pain at all, not just physical. If that was so, even if only temporarily, then she could feel like a true victor tonight.

 

To take away his pain is the greatest achievement in her eyes.

 

“Shall we bathe?” the blissed out thunder god suggests this time, drooling out of the corner of his mouth as half of his face seems almost melded with the pillow.

 

“No,” Valkyrie smiles, getting closer to trace patterns on his back with feather-light fingertips. “Tomorrow,” she assures.

 

Thor grins, pleased with the prospect of not having to get up now after being so thoroughly fucked. He doubts his legs could carry him.

 

He turns then to go from being on his front to his back, giving a deeply satisfied sigh before realising that as he touched his belly there’s now a layer of semen on his hand. He looks down to see himself covered in it, having rolled in the patch he’d just released onto.

 

“Oh!” he remarks bashfully, his soft cheeks adopting colour. “Ah, I—I’ve made quite a mess…”

 

“That’s alright, love,” Valkyrie reassures, not even remotely fazed by the sight as she goes to soak a warm washcloth for him. “The sheets will wash,” she promises, returning with a towel to lie down on his side as the thunder god sits up and lets her clean him.

 

He holds his hand out like a little boy caught with a graze and mud stains from a fall, and Valkyrie wipes him down with the same care a mother or a kind big sister would.

 

She moves onto his belly next and then his back.

 

“My, you _have_ made a mess,” she chastises jokingly. “Guess you really needed it, hm?”

 

Thor chuckles and lifts his shoulders when her lips come close to his ear and her gentle breath makes his skin tingle.

 

“I... to tell you the truth I... haven’t had much of a—an appetite—” he pauses to see that she isn’t about to comment on his word choice, relieved that she doesn’t make a joke, “n-not since I came home and saw you.”

 

“Did you think of me often?” she asks, interested to hear about how he had been managing with the guardians given that he seemed avoidant to talk about his time with them.

 

“Yes, every day!” he replies, taking both of her hands. “I... I couldn’t want anyone else. I couldn’t bring myself to... to make love with another... I know that what we have is-is noncommittal... but I... I’m in love with only you, and I have known it for a long time...”

 

“Yes, I’ve known it to,” Valkyrie laughs gently. Thor is not subtle with his affections in the slightest. No matter what his emotional state, he never runs out of love; he brims with it. It’s just how he is, and it’s impossible not to adore.

 

“Could... could you ever feel the same?” the love-burdened giant dares to ask, focusing on the dexterous, talented hands that he is holding in his own.

 

“Thor,” Valkyrie sympathises, prompting him to look up. “I already _do_ ,” she assures, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

 

“Ah,” the thunder god hiccups, quickly rubbing his eyes to dissuade the tears and giving an ardent nod of understanding.

 

“You big oaf,” Valkyrie teases him, wiping away his tears as he fails to suppress them. “I love you. Of course I love you. I love you the same,” she tells him, cradling his big head in her arms as they lay down together.

 

Thor nods again, profile perfectly fitting in the shape of her neck and cheeks comfortably pressed to her breasts.

 

“I’m happy,” he whimpers, voice cracking as he cries softly in her arms, holding her tightly in return.

 

Valkyrie knows that he isn’t just talking about being loved. She knows he’s not just crying because his love is reciprocated. But nevertheless, it’s because of her that he is feeling good things, and that makes her happy too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the comments so far i really appreciate them & im glad u guys are enjoying the fic (Ｔ▽Ｔ)


	4. Chapter 4

 

“M-my pain matters, but it is not who I am,” Thor says clearly to himself in the mirror before brushing his teeth.

 

“I am confident in who I want to be,” he states as he’s braiding his beard.

 

“I am always worthy of love,” he smiles, seeing a handsome, well-groomed face smiling back at him when he’s finished tying up his hair.

 

At one point, daily affirmations like this would have seemed completely needless to him, but he is surprised by how reassuring it is to actualise certain feelings to himself out loud.

 

Bruce’s gift of a new phone loaded with e-books and audio passages on mindfulness has been a truly powerful tool for Thor in just the past few days. He’s had a lot of fun learning how to use it, too.

 

It’s been a little over a week since coming home, and while he has been on a good streak after Bruce’s visit, Thor is keen to make a habit of practicing the suggestions he left with him.

 

“Are you gunna’ be okay today, love? Got something to do?” Valkyrie asks as she holds him from behind.

 

Thor nods assuredly, holding her hands against his tummy for a moment as they look at each other in the mirror.

 

She’s already dressed and has been up for a while; today she has a meeting with her counsel, so she has advised Thor to make himself busy and spend time with his friends, sans alcohol, as that has _indeed_ been confiscated.

 

“Have a good day, please don’t worry about me,” the gentle giant beams, kissing her hand.

 

“Alright, I’ll see you tonight. You have fun today,” she supplies with a kiss on the cheek before leaving him to it.

 

She’d mentioned earlier that it would soon be time to move the sheep to new grazing for them to lamb and that the seasonal fish are likely to change. While topics weren’t always so rustic when Thor was king, he certainly doesn’t miss being a ruler and having to head such meetings himself.

 

He remembers a time when it felt as though the only thing Odin had wanted for him was to be king.

 

To see it from where he stands now, he realises he was groomed to be one; born to it, and so excited in his youth to one day claim what he _thought_ he was made for, that he never once questioned if it was what he truly _wanted_.

 

However tragic the loss of Asgard and of his throne, he is in a way grateful for the liberties a fresh start with new friends has brought him.

 

He hopes his father isn’t disappointed by the choices he has made or by who he has become... but recalling Odin’s last words to him and Loki, he remembers instead that he is loved.

 

“I am no king, father, but I am still trying my best to become a good man,” Thor speaks up to the rafters, hoping somewhere out there his father’s spirit knows this.

 

After making a very handsome breakfast for himself, Thor treks up the hillside through the village to his old house on the knoll.

 

“Korg! Miek!” he bellows as he enters the shabby shack to find his two friends right where he left them. “I have returned for more Fortnite!” he cheers.

 

“Yeah! Alright man, that’s what I like to hear!” the Kronan replies. “Take a seat, there’s stubbies in the fridge—I mean no there’s not we are an alcohol _free_ house,” he quickly corrects.

 

Thor laughs heartily and produces the six-pack of sodas he brought along.

 

“I shall stick to these: my new vice, thank you very much!” he proudly informs.

 

“Alright, Thor! Good for you, man,” Korg says supportively, prompting a wordless cheer from Miek. “Oh I’ve been meaning to tell you, I’ve ordered this new one, should be arriving today. It’s a two player game,” he continues, “thought’chu might like to give it a go?”

 

“Yes, I don’t see why not,” Thor confidently agrees, sitting back with his belly out as he gets comfortable in his chair, popping a can of sprite.

 

He spends the first few hours just snacking and watching Korg obliterate challenges on Fortnite.

 

There’s no doubt in his mind that his friend must be worthy of some sort of award either for his proficiency at the game, or at the very least, number of consecutive hours played.

 

When there’s a knock at the door they all cheer, and Korg excitedly goes to accept his package, returning with it held above his head like a holy grail.

 

“It’s here, it has arrived,” he announces dramatically.

 

Thor toasts him with the lift of an empty soda can and grins.

 

“Man everyone’s talking about it. Can’t wait to try it out,” Korg enlightens as he strips the cardboard packaging off and leaves it on the floor like where most other items in this house are either stored or discarded.

 

Thor takes his last can of soda, but is denied his first sip when he jolts and spills his drink all down himself as the first round of gunfire blares across the screen and men begin yelling; blood splattering and soldiers collapsing.

 

“Oh, it’s violent! It’s a violent game,” Korg declares, reaching for a fistful of peanuts he eats without even bothering to shell them.

 

Thor laughs nervously, dabbing his front where he splashed sprite over himself and tries to play off the deep discomfort that’s growing in his chest.

 

He can already see that it’s a first person shooter. Just the perspective is enough to make his palms sweat and his mouth dry with fear. He doesn’t want to be back here again. No more fighting for his life, not even in a virtual setting.

 

“Here we go. Aw it’s a skirmish. Here we go man,” Korg chants, tossing the second controller at Thor.

 

Thor fumbles, trading that for his drink. He tries desperately to get into it, but the recoil of the gunfire making the controller vibrate has him wincing. Audio and visual triggers are enough; he doesn’t need physical reverb to immerse him in the horror of a war game even more.

 

“Ah, you’re lagging Thor, you’re lagging mate!” Korg points out, already very adept at the challenge and clearly getting into it.

 

“S-Sorry,” Thor apologises, finding it hard to react when there are heads exploding left, right and centre.

 

They advance into a new war zone featuring civilians next, and the screaming is too much for him. Thor drops the controller and cries in frustration, covering his ears out of sheer helplessness to the on-screen violence.

 

“I—I don’t want to play,” he cries, “I’m sorry I—” he can’t even find the words to properly excuse himself, he just wants to leave.

 

“Thor, wait man! We can play something else. I’ve got Minecraft!” Korg calls after him.

 

Thor is already bustling out of the front door though, not even bothering to tug his cardigan over his head to provide some resistance to the rain that has just started to fall.

 

It comes heavy and fast in no time, and the dirt track that leads back down into the village is quick to become unfavourable terrain.

 

But Thor just keeps running, unable to get the vivid memories of being in a real war out of his head.

 

He thinks of Thanos and the crushing failure he met twice by his hand. He thinks of Asgard disintegrating, _people_ disintegrating; Loki, Heimdall, his mother, his father, his friends—all that he has lost and the survivor’s guilt that comes with it.

 

The earth has become boggy already, and the path remains steep. Blinded by the thick sheet of falling rain in front of him, Thor is unable to gauge what purchase he has, and just when he thinks he’s in reach of home, he skids and falls hard enough to tear his gloves and graze his hands as he lands face down in the mud.

 

He makes a weak sound of misery, lying there for a moment wanting to cry, but he picks himself up nonetheless.

 

His back twinges as he is starting to stand, and he whimpers then, but pushes through the pain and the humiliation seeing he is close to home after all.

 

The door is unlocked as he left it, and he has the good sense to take off his boots and sodden clothes, chucking them in the washing machine before pouncing on the sheepskin throw and bundling himself up in front of the log-burner.

 

He tells himself some affirmations as he’s stacking up a few lumps of cedar in the stove, but it’s not enough to clear his mind.

 

He shivers, holding out his hands in an effort to garner warmth from the fire as it just starts to stoke. It makes him wince when his hands begin to dry and the grazes tighten though, so he tugs off his gloves and tosses them aside before examining his wounds.

 

The scrapes aren’t too deep, but they are bleeding and they do sting.

 

A wave of self-pity hits him then. He’s embarrassed and jarred by his panic attack, still afflicted by the flashbacks. He’s scared he’ll never be himself again. He’s scared that after a while, people’s patience will run out and his friends won’t be able to love him anymore.

 

He doesn’t want to be alone. It’s not nice being alone. It’s not _nice_ being without his Valkyrie who makes him feel safe.

 

He had refused tears when he fell, not wanting to feel any more like a little boy in need of his mother than he already did, but thinking of her in this time only encourages the tears, so he hums. He hums the lullaby that she used to sing to him, voice fraying as he rocks himself like _she_ used to rock him, and waits for the rain outside to stop falling, and his tears to stop falling too.

 

It’s dark when Valkyrie comes home, but the rain hasn’t stopped.

 

“Thor?” she calls out as she steps in from the downpour, quickly shutting it out and shimmying off her coat. “Love, are you home?” she tries again. “I stopped by your place—didn’t think you’d have an umbrella—”

 

Thor doesn’t reply, but she soon spots him having migrated to the couch to sit in his blanket in silence.

 

“Hey, big guy,” she croons, going over to crouch in front of him. “What’s going on? I went to check on you but Korg said you’d left… everything okay?”

 

Thor looks at her, seemingly catatonic at first, but manages an unconvincing smile as he nods his head.

 

His eyes are glassy and red-rimmed, his beard all caked with mud and a slight bruise on his cheek.

 

“Thor... are you drunk?” Valkyrie investigates, worry tinging her tone.

 

Thor shakes his head.

 

“Love?” she probes, slowly standing.

 

“I’m not,” the thunder god insists, looking up at her unequivocally.

 

She catches a glimpse of his hands then and notices the angry grazes on the heels of his palms.

 

“Thor,” she tuts. She knows better than to make a big deal of it but she is unable not to acknowledge it altogether.

 

Thor clenches his fists to hide them and looks away; breathing out through his nose like even the mere mention makes him want to cry again.

 

“Darling, let me see,” Valkyrie elicits, sitting beside him this time and taking one of his injured hands.

 

He watches her cautiously, but his eyes well completely out of his control when he sees her kiss the sore, scraped skin with such reverence and tenderness.

 

His instinct is to pull away. In this state he doesn’t want to be vulnerable. But it’s his Valkyrie, he can’t help himself. He _yearns_ for her affection and to be open with the person he loves. His gentle nature just cannot allow him to close himself off to someone who treats him with such compassion.

 

“I fell,” he admits. “I-I was running home and I... tripped and fell.”

 

Valkyrie makes a sympathetic sound as if to say, ‘that must have hurt,’ and Thor finally huffs a laugh, unable to resist the power of her comfort.

 

“Yes,” he mutters, “it was rather embarrassing.”

 

She smiles and examines the little bruise on his face next. “I’m sure nobody saw it happen,” she heartens.

 

Thor huffs again weakly and closes his eyes, feeling his senses come back to him now thanks to a little loving contact.

 

“Oh darling, look at you,” Valkyrie sighs after making her assessment. “You’ve got mud in your hair and everything. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

 

Thor shakes his head and gives a half-hearted smirk. “Only my pride,” he confesses.

 

“Poor lamb,” Valkyrie murmurs, feeling wounded by the thought of her sweet little warrior taking a tumble like that and her not being around to pick him up and dust him off.

 

She had stopped herself earlier from asking why he was running in the first place. After speaking to Korg when she’d gone over she had inkling, but seeing him now, she has sufficiently pieced together what happened.

 

Korg had mentioned showing Thor the new game and that he had ‘freaked out’. She could guess what it had reminded him of and that he’d simply wanted to get himself somewhere safe to find comfort.

 

“Why don’t I draw you a bath, sweetheart?” she suggests, tucking his straggled forelocks out of his face for him with the utmost care.

 

Thor smiles wearily at her and nods, drawing his gaze away from the dwindling fire in the hearth. He can’t help but to touch her cheek with the back of his hand; tender and appreciative of just how magnificent she is.

 

The new queen of Asgard is possibly the fiercest and most worthy leader they’ve ever had. She is quick-witted and battle-hardened. But what makes her strong, is that she is capable of setting aside those assets and showing also great care and compassion.

 

Thor doesn’t always feel worthy to receive it, but he is certainly grateful for it nonetheless. He has been an unlucky man these past few years, but fate was very kind to let him keep his Valkyrie.

 

He zones back in when she calls him for his bath, keeping the throw wrapped around him out of timidity for her to see the mud on his belly, too.

 

She says nothing even when she does of course notice. She’s probed him enough about his injuries, so instead just helps him into the tub.

 

The thunder god makes a soft sound as he sinks into the bath. The temperature is just right.

 

“Does that feel better, love?” Valkyrie purrs, cupping water in her hand to douse his back.

 

“Yes, much. Thank you,” he smiles before kissing her free hand humbly.

 

She traces his bottom lip with her thumb, gazing at his grubby face and aching with adoration for the clumsy fool.

 

“I’m going to start dinner. Take all the time you need, okay?” she soothes. “Make sure to wash your hair, too.”

 

Thor accepts a kiss to the forehead, deciding not to ask her if she would prefer to join him given that the water is already somewhat murky just from wetting his beard in it.

 

He does indeed take his time though, rinsing his hair and easing his aches as the warm water laps around his body and soothes his fraught soul.

 

He comes out feeling like a new man, dressed in clean pyjamas and excited for his dinner, but the sight of Valkyrie asleep at the table isn’t quite what he expected.

 

It seems she got as far as peeling the potatoes before the long day caught up with her.

 

Thor smiles with complete enamour. It’s not her style to be so domestic, but he knows she’s been making an effort for both their sakes.

 

He takes a seat next to her, tucking the curtain of long dark hair behind her ear so that he can admire her rosy face.

 

Making good food, keeping herself on the right path and supporting him, _all_ while shouldering the great responsibility of rebuilding a kingdom is more than any one person should be capable of, but Valkyrie has managed it all up to now and without complaint.

 

If there is a stronger being the universe than her, Thor would like to see it. If only so that he can warn them their title is in dispute.

 

Her lips are even poutier when she’s resting her cheek against a closed fist; face all squished on one side. Thor feels his heart physically swell with devotion for her, and decides he won’t wake his queen. Instead, he goes to carefully lift her, making sure that her head doesn’t loll by holding her toward his shoulder.

 

She only stirs a little; telling of just how exhausted she is. Valkyrie is a very light sleeper usually.

 

He carries her to bed then, laying her down with all the care a man his size can muster and just sitting on the edge for a few moments as he arranges her hair on the pillow so that it will not tangle as much in her sleep.

 

“I apologise for making such a hard day even more so,” he whispers. “I will try to be better.”

 

He seals the promise by returning the forehead kiss she gave him earlier, and pulls the covers up on her side before getting into bed himself.

 

Valkyrie stirs again just as he is settling down, and he watches her roll right into the dip of the mattress made by his body until she is flush against him.

 

He chuckles and lifts his arm to let her in before turning over so that she can spoon him.

 

Sleep cannot distort her perception of what she knows to be his shape beside her, or from assuming the position of a protective embrace.

 

“Good night, my love,” he whispers over to her, holding her hand as it rests faithfully on his belly.

 

The day has been tough for both of them, but in spite of his incident, seeing Valkyrie succumb to tiredness helps him find some perspective. Instead of letting himself feel guilt for being so consumed by his own struggles, he grabs onto his faithful optimism, and sees it as a chance to help himself by helping others.

 

It isn’t often he’s able to offer comfort to someone else these days, but having the opportunity to take care of his Valkyrie, even in a way so small as simply carrying her to bed, is a nice distraction from the usual feeling of helplessness he suffers.

 

Everyone in this town is fighting to overcome something. They had all bore witness to the fall of Asgard and the loss of loved ones. Taking care of each other is the best way of getting through the pain, and Thor is ready to start being honest about when he is hurting.

 

“I am not alone in my fight,” he whispers one more affirmation to himself as he is drifting off to sleep. “I am surrounded by people who love and support me.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

Thor wakes to a much brighter day. The air is clear after the storm and the sun is streaming in through the slatted blinds to cast fractal beams on the hardwood floor.

 

He can hear the trees outside as they sway and shimmy in the strong breeze when the wind gets up, and he smiles and stretches with a low grunt, reminded of his good fortune when he sees a hand still resting on his belly.

 

“Good morning, my love,” he greets Valkyrie, turning over to face her and kiss her between the eyes.

 

The dark ringlets that tumble from the crown of her head are scattered like little brambles all around her face, and he blows gently at her to clear them, inadvertently making her scrunch her nose up in response to the ticklish sensation. He is unable not to grin with total adoration for her.

 

She doesn’t wake though, and he’s glad. She needs all the sleep she can get. Not to mention, today is his day to exercise his domestic prowess.

 

He gets up quietly, adjusting the curtains before leaving so that the sun doesn’t disturb his queen now that his big body is no longer there to break the light.

 

Tiptoeing all the way to the kitchen he begins making preparations for breakfast. Lighting the hob proves to make him a little anxious, but since that incident Valkyrie has been very patient showing him exactly how to start the flame off low.

 

Just small successes like that give a real boost to his confidence, and once he’s got the gas going he knows exactly what he is doing.

 

Since his very first visit to Earth, Thor picked up the talent for making _exceptional_ scrambled eggs and it’s not a skill he has forgotten.

 

He sets down a plate of the creamiest eggs with toast, a side of smoked bacon and a glass of orange juice, and in a cute little vase is the biggest wildflower he could pluck from outside. He then carries it all upstairs on a tray to bring breakfast in bed to his sleeping beauty.

 

The sound of him clattering around in the kitchen experimentally had woken Valkyrie a while ago, but her good intuition convinced her not to go and investigate. Of course, she wants Thor to see her surprised, so she feigns sleep until the adorable oaf is hovering over her.

 

“Good morning,” he beams when she makes a performance of waking up, stretching and returning the greeting through a yawn before properly opening her eyes to see the beautiful breakfast he has made for her.

 

“Oh, Thor!” she exclaims, not feigning a _thing_ anymore. “This looks amazing... wow,” she praises him, letting him set the tray down in her lap and kissing him as he leans over her.

 

“Breakfast in bed for my queen,” he needlessly informs, brimming with pride.

 

“I can see!” she chuckles. “Thank you, darling. This is really... _really_ lovely.”

 

Valkyrie is not often one to get sentimental—and it’s not like Thor’s never done the cooking before—but the fact that he got himself out of bed early despite the temptation to hide himself away all day, and used that time to prepare a heartfelt breakfast _just_ for her is impossible not to swoon at, even just a little.

 

The thunder god watches her eat the first bite to be sure it’s satisfactory, hands clasped as he awaits some sort of verdict.

 

“Oh _wow_ ,” Valkyrie emphasises, giving him a nod and a look that assures him it’s delicious.

 

It’s worth being extra just to see how proud he is of himself.

 

“Good! In that case I am going to have a shower,” he then smiles, kissing her forehead.

 

Valkyrie gives a closed-mouth laugh as she watches him to the en-suite with that rare and rosy smile.

 

She's finished eating before he's out of the shower, but she _did_ enjoy listening to his singing.

 

“Oh,” Thor murmurs, surprised to find her already up and dressed by the time he steps out.

 

“Feel all fresh, love?” she asks, glancing up as she fastens her belt. “You smell good.”

 

“Ah, th-thank you. How was your breakfast?” he wonders, that eager to please-ness evident in the way he touches his fingers together.

 

“It was beautiful, perfect,” Valkyrie replies, approaching him to pull him forward by his waist and kiss him tenderly, “just like you,” she concludes with a smile, caressing the faded bruise on his cheek.

 

Thor smiles blushingly at her words and the way her hand circles his belly like she’s rubbing it for good luck. But knowing that he’s going to be alone all day harbours itself as a distant sadness in his eyes.

 

“I’d better go, still got a lot of things to review. I’ll see you tonight, pumpkin. Let me cook dinner, yeah?”

 

“Oh, wait! But I had plans for dinner,” Thor quickly interjects.

 

“Oh? Well aren’t I a spoilt girl today?” Valkyrie teases.

 

“Heh, you will be,” the thunder god alludes, closing the gap between them once more to lean down and whisper against her neck with a kiss. “I would also like to return your favours in the bedroom... and show you how a queen _should_ be worshipped.”

 

He’s arousing himself just with the implication of getting to dote on her for a change, but he should have known better than to think he could melt her down so easily.

 

“Oh really?” she parries, taking a fistful of hair and pulling his head to the side, commanding but _not_ harsh. “I’d love to hear all about how you plan to do that, but you realise you’ll have to fight me for the privilege, and I’m not sure you can manage it, big fella’.”

 

“But I want to,” Thor whines, feeling desperate to prove himself as a reciprocal lover. “I want to make you feel good, I want to hear you say my name as I say yours, I want—” he swallows thickly, noting the look on Valkyrie’s face.

 

She lets go of his hair and gives his head a little scratch to soothe the roots from being pulled. It only encourages Thor to lean into her touch again.

 

“You sweet boy,” she muses, retracting her hand and going to put some socks on. “But I know how you feel, Thor. You don’t need to do anything more to tell me.”

 

“I—but twice now I have accepted your love without return,” he points out, looking extremely hurt when his Valkyrie leaves the room. He follows her downstairs, shrugging into his bathrobe as he goes.

 

“It’s alright, love,” she tells him, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on her way.

 

“No it isn’t!” Thor protests, starting to feel a horrible sense of self-consciousness twisting in his tummy. “I—I made you lunch,” he quickly adds, handing her the lunchbox off the counter.

 

“Aw,  love!” Valkyrie croons appreciatively, pinching his cheek as she continues to the door to put on her boots.

 

Thor wrings the front of his bathrobe, his chest starting to heave as he watches her and feels like he’s not getting his point across.

 

“Is it me?” he croaks, shame and repulsion hitting him in tandem. “Is it this body do I—do I disgust you, am-am I disgusting?”

 

Valkyrie stops dead. She had been so preoccupied with getting out the house on time that she hadn’t truly been listening to him.

 

“Sweetheart,” she pours, setting the lunchbox aside and sweeping back over to him to take his sorry face between her hands.

 

“Y-you don’t want me to touch you?” he presumes, working himself up into tears of embarrassment.

 

“That’s not it at all, darling,” she tells him, repeating it in every iteration between planting soft, tender kisses all over. “You’re beautiful. And you’re wonderful and generous and the _sweetest_ man I’ve ever known... but I like loving you. I don’t need anything in return. I don’t _want_ anything in return.”

 

“I know but I—I want to,” he insists. “You deserve it and I—”

 

The clock tower chimes a few blocks away, and Valkyrie winces, feeling bad that he was interrupted, but also that she is going to have to interrupt him further in order to get to the morning meeting.

 

“Alright, listen; providing I don’t fall asleep at the dinner table you can have it your way tonight. But you’re gunna’ take it on all fours right after, got that?” she winks, gently touching his face as a parting sentiment before she hurries off.

 

“Deal!” Thor chuckles, managing a smile as he blinks away the unshed tears. “Lunch!” he then points out, seeing as she is about to forget.

 

“Yes!” Valkyrie assures, grabbing the box again. “Thank you, _your majesty_ ,” she jibes with a bow.

 

“Ah, that’s you now,” the thunder god plays back, following her to the door and stealing one more kiss before waving her off like a mother to their child on their way to school.

 

Feeling better about their evening plans and the assurance that Valkyrie’s aversion to being on the receiving end in bed has nothing to do with his appearance, he sets about tidying up the kitchen.

 

He had planned to leave it there, but he’s only an hour down after finishing that job, so decides to keep the good work going while he has the motivation, and tidies the rest of the house too.

 

He listens to some of the music that Bruce put on his phone for him and practises some affirmations, and while it feels like he has been busy for ages he’s actually just in time for lunch after he finishes in the bathroom.

 

It’s more than satisfying to have completed a good deep clean.

 

It’s not something he ever did in his own house during his months of drunkenness and not something he ever needed to do in the palace, but he is certain that despite all that, he still has higher cleanliness standards than Valkyrie, who will eat food with her bare hands right after dismounting Skeidbrimir and wielding her sword in the dust bowl of an arena outside the village.

 

He takes his time preparing and indulgent lunch, but after eating it and watching a couple hours of TV, he is starting to run out of ways to postpone the boredom.

 

He plays on his phone for a little while, then considers taking a walk around the village. There are storm clouds gathering when he looks out the window though, and he shivers at the thought of being in torrential rain again.

 

“Ah!” he proclaims when he arrives at an idea, taking to the kitchen and switching the oven on.

 

They have a plentiful amount of ingredients to do baking with, and what better way to welcome his queen home after a hard day’s work than to a clean house with a freshly baked cake.

 

Determined to become adept at using his phone, he searches for a recipe there and puts some music on to cook to.

 

He had worried he was dipping earlier, but this has _certainly_ lifted his spirits again.

 

A whole afternoon of baking later, Thor is proudly boxing up two batches of the most delicious smelling cookies and carefully arranging individually decorated cupcakes on a rack. He places them on the counter to be the first thing Valkyrie sees when she comes home.

 

He takes a couple of cookies for himself then and puts his feet up with a cup of tea to watch TV again. Now that it’s later in the day the programmes are often better as little ones will be home from school.

 

He decides to watch the news, but there’s little out of the ordinary to report here in Norway.

 

Or so he thinks, until he recognises a certain star-spangled uniform donned by a new wearer.

 

He leans forward, turning the volume up and listening intently as the hero is indeed referred to as Captain America, but _not_ Steve Rogers.

 

“Sam Wilson,” Thor repeats after the news anchor, sitting back again with a thoughtful smirk before biting into a cookie. “The Falcon,” he recalls aloud.

 

He wonders then if perhaps he owes his former team a visit. It had seemed like it would be too painful to face the changes that have gone on at his other home there in New York, but part of healing, he supposes, is confronting that which troubles you.

 

Thinking about his old team and the losses they have suffered starts to drag his mood down quite quickly. He helps himself to some more cookies, but distractions are all but run out now, and his mind starts to wander toward loneliness and guilt.

 

Despite having won the battle in the end, Thor can’t help feeling like he could have done better; could have changed something earlier so that they didn’t have to suffer for their victory. He _should_ have gone for the _head_.

 

“No,” he tells himself, shuffling upstairs to the bedroom for refuge under the covers. “I—I did the best I could. I am worthy. I am loved,” he mumbles, trying to repel the intrusive thoughts with his own voice.

 

He’d been doing so well today. But his depression has always been able to creep up on him. Whether he’s galaxies away, or whether he’s here under his duvet, it _always_ seems to catch him up…

 

When Valkyrie comes home she audibly gasps. The place looks immaculate.

 

“Awww,” she sighs, catching sight of the beautifully displayed cupcakes. “Thor?” she calls out, seeing no sight of him.

 

She takes her coat off and has a brief look around, genuinely in awe of what a good job he has done.

 

It never occurred to her just how different the place could look or even how much coming home to a tidy house could mean to her until seeing the place.

 

Assuming he is having a well-earned nap, she heads upstairs to find the sweet man responsible for all of this.

 

There is indeed a familiar little lump on Thor’s side of the bed, so she gets in with him and adopts the role of big spoon.

 

“How are you feeling, your majesty?” she purrs, tickling the back of his neck affectionately. “The house looks amazing, and you’ve been baking I see,” she praises.

 

Thor flinches and gasps, uncomfortable with the potentially flirtatious nature of the touch and immediately misreading it.

 

“I’m sorry,” he sniffles. “I—I don’t want to... not tonight.”

 

“Love? What do you m—oh... oh, _love_ ,” Valkyrie pours, understanding mid-sentence and suddenly worried to hear such sadness in his voice.

 

She begins just rubbing his back, not even considering more intimate contact given his response. “That isn’t—that’s not what—don’t apologise,” she settles for.

 

Implying she wanted sex wasn’t the tone she meant to strike, and she’s admittedly a little affronted by his assumption, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that he understands he’s not obligated to offer it, and _never_ should he feel guilty for saying no to it, either.

 

“You don’t ever have to apologise for that,” she hushes.

 

She hears the tell-tale click of his jaw as he grits his teeth, trying not to cry, but inevitably he lets out a painful gleen as a sob pushes its way from his chest without permission.

 

“I s-said I would though! B-but I f-feel sad!” he wails.

 

He doesn’t know what else to call the feeling. Sad seems far too simple—far too trivial of a way to describe it—but it’s the only word he has in his vernacular to even compare.

 

“Alright, darling. It’s alright to be sad,” Valkyrie reassures, still rubbing his back as she tucks her legs under his to provide some comfort.

 

“It hurts! It hurts in here!” he sobs, tugging at the front of his sweater like there’s a way to physically remove the pain in his chest.

 

“Turn over, sweetheart,” Valkyrie patiently instructs.

 

Despite his anguish Thor abides her command. Anything in the hope that she can fix it. God does he wish it could be fixed.

 

Valkyrie takes his sorry face between both hands and keeps his pied-eyed gaze steady with her own.

 

“Deep breaths, sweetheart. It’s alright to cry—it’s alright—but let’s try to keep breathing, “she encourages. “Copy me, love… then use your words.”

 

Hiccupping as his hyperventilating lungs try to come down from such a demand for oxygen intake, Thor follows his Valkyrie carefully.

 

Inhale, hold it, exhale; as many times as necessary until breathing is normal again. That had been one of the first techniques Bruce had introduced to him.

 

“Good boy,” Valkyrie coos, wiping away his tears with her thumbs.

 

“Can’t—I— I can’t exhale f-for that long,” he huffs, holding her wrists as he loses his breathing balance briefly.

 

“That’s okay. That’s just fine. You breathe out until you’re done, you don’t need to count it,” she reassures him, rubbing his blotchy little cheeks to soothe him.

 

He closes his eyes then, breathing steadily through slightly pursed lips as he holds her hands to his face as an assurance that she’s not going anywhere.

 

“That’s a good boy. That’s perfect, well done” Valkyrie gently encourages as he recovers himself from his distress. “Clever boy,” she soothes, kissing his worry-lined forehead.

 

Thor lets go of her hands then and hugs her instead, resting his head under her chin and squeezing her like he’s afraid she is going to vanish.

 

“Can you tell me what you’re feeling now?” she asks, returning to him his opportunity to speak without the grip of a panic attack in his throat. “How does it hurt, love?” she prompts. “Where does it hurt?”

 

“In here,” Thor whimpers, gesturing to the general area between his stomach and his heart.

 

If he had to guess, it seems like rather than an organ, it’s his feelings that sit there, and they hurt with a dull, thrumming ache; sometimes more aggravated than other times, but rarely never at all.

 

It’s like a heaviness in his body and mind; both ranging from numbness to the point of complete apathy to a high voltage anxiety that makes him on edge even in safe company.

 

While persistent, it is, however, not _constant_.

 

There have been mornings where he has woken up in complete bliss, like today. There have been moments of warm sunshine and extra time in bed as breakfast cooks downstairs. Things that make him full of happiness, like the sight of his Valkyrie beside him or just coming out of the shower all glowing in the sunlight.

 

Distraction from the pain isn’t impossible, it just isn’t as long-lasting as alcohol, and that is the threat he is currently fighting to avoid, for his and Valkyrie’s sake more than anyone else’s.

 

“You’ve been doing so well, love. I hope you know—I _need_ you to know—I’m so proud of you,” she reminds him, and happy to do so however many times he needs to be told.

 

Thor winces to free the tears clinging to his lashes and nods.

 

“I know,” he sniffles. “I’ve ruined it—I let you down—I have r-ruined everything, all my progress—”

 

“No,” Valkyrie interjects firmly. “No, no, no, you haven’t ruined _anything_. Darling,” she pours, “it’s normal to relapse. They can’t _all_ be good days unfortunately... but this hasn’t taken anything away from your progress. You’re still sober, you’re still fighting, and you’re still healing. Look at how much you got done today, how much you achieved! You’re still going in the right direction, my love.”

 

Thor nods and manages a weary smile.

 

“Not without you,” he says, looking into her eyes with the utmost devotion and gratitude. “I would not be getting through this without you.”

 

Valkyrie returns a smile, humble, though rightfully not denying it.

 

“I just wish I’d done more sooner. I should have helped you sooner,” she darns, bringing his head to rest on her chest again.

 

“I appreciate it now,” Thor replies. “I shut everyone out before, but you never did stop holding my hand. I am happy you have not let go, even after all this time.”

 

“Never.” Valkyrie smiles, tucking a few golden tendrils behind his ear. “I’ll always be here to hold your hand, pumpkin.”

 

She understands the feeling that times like these are regressive. But she also understands that it’s possible to get better. So, no matter how ugly things get, she will never let Thor lose the hope and confidence he’s rebuilt.

 

He can cry as much as he needs to and curse his pain. He can nap when he just can’t handle being awake for a while and he can snack when he wants to. But his Valkyrie won’t let him slip beyond his own ability to help himself back up.

 

Sometimes Thor might not be able to get himself to shower, but he will always make the effort to brush his teeth, and Valkyrie will meet him halfway with a bit of dry shampoo and something to tie a braid with.

 

Responsibilities like doing the laundry while she is out or putting the plates away he takes very seriously, so if on some days he doesn’t manage it then Valkyrie will know it’s a particularly bad day, and will always patiently offer to hand him plates while he stacks, or hang clothes on the line as long as he holds the basket.

 

Sometimes compromises like that are vital. It’s not a defeat when here’s still a long way to go, and while it’s true that only Thor can make the decision to change, that _doesn’t_ mean he has to do it alone.

 

Help will always be given when he needs it. Even when he only has enough energy to put half the effort into something, he will always have people willing to share their energy and help him complete it.

 

And for Thor, leaning on someone as he limps to the finish line is better than never crossing it.

 

They lay in bed holding each other for some time then. The sky is getting dark, turning a deep navy above the horizon, and it’s swallowing the room in darkness too.

 

Thor stirs as Valkyrie reaches over to switch a lamp on, transforming the heavy room into a cosy space with a warm and welcoming yellow glow. Thor rubs his eyes, having dozed off after crying himself out, and his tear-stained face blushes pink when his tummy rumbles loudly.

 

“Come on darling,” Valkyrie smiles knowingly, “let’s go downstairs and make some dinner,” she beckons, kissing his toasty little face.

 

Thor is out like a light that evening after filling his belly. Valkyrie is glad they retired to bed at the same time or she would have had to heft the sweet fool upstairs herself if he had fallen asleep watching television.

 

She looks over at him, snoring softly with his mouth slightly agape and his tummy slightly exposed under his t-shirt.

 

“Sweet boy,” she croons quietly, pulling the covers up over him to see that he doesn’t get cold.

 

It’s nice just to watch him for a little while in such a peaceful state. He’s not feeling any pain or conflict or disparity in his sleep. He just looks peaceful.

 

Valkyrie sets aside her own phone then after sending a rather lengthy ‘electronic letter’.

 

“It’s all going to get better, pumpkin,” she promises him, shuffling down under the covers and turning over to rest on her elbow and admire him some more. “You’re fighting so hard,” she whispers appreciatively, arranging his long golden hair on the pillow more neatly as he so often does for her.

 

Eventually she falls asleep facing him. It just brings her a little bit of comfort every night to see him off to sleep first.

 

After all, there is no assurance of who is watching over him and protecting him from above, but right here on Earth, her strength and devotion is a guarantee.

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

Thor sleeps in the next day. Valkyrie isn’t surprised, but she is a little mournful knowing that Thor will likely feel bad for having lost his good streak.

 

As per last night’s message, Bruce is already on his way.

 

Valkyrie knows he is busy and had told him in her text that he _didn’t_ need to make such a journey, just a phone call would suffice, but Bruce cares about Thor a lot and was adamant about seeing him.

 

Punctual as always, he arrives well before Thor is even out of bed. They sip tea and discuss the weather, both a little uneasy with what they plan to suggest in case it upsets the thunder god.

 

Valkyrie takes a sharp breath and forces a smile when she hears him getting out of bed and begin shuffling around. He doesn’t go for a shower, and she gives Bruce a slightly nervous side-eye.

 

She doesn’t want Thor to think she is suddenly just carting him off to be someone else’s responsibility, but right now she can’t be home all the time to give him the company and support that he needs. The Avengers, however, _can_.

 

“Good morning,” she and Bruce chorus when the scruffy looking demi-god makes his appearance.

 

His eyes are barely open, but when he catches sight of Bruce at their dining table he lights up.

 

“Banner!” he cries.

 

“Hey, big guy,” Bruce returns the greeting, getting up carefully this time to hug the other man.

 

Valkyrie breathes a little easier now seeing Thor respond well to having a visitor even in this state. It assures her that perhaps sending him to New York to have time with his friends is the right decision for him.

 

“What brings you here? I had been meaning to send you an electronic letter!” he caws, taking a seat opposite his friends.

 

“Here, love,” Valkyrie smiles, setting his breakfast down in front of him after keeping it warm on the grill.

 

Thor gives her a grateful and very sunny grin, and just seeing this sudden uptake in energy for having more company strengthens her conviction about this.

 

“Uh, well,” Bruce begins to answer his question, “I came because um...” he urges himself not to say ‘Valkyrie is worried about you’, “I came because things are going pretty well with the new Avengers and I wanted to invite you to come stay with us.”

 

Hardly a lie, the others _are_ excited to have him.

 

“Stay with you? Really?” Thor responds enthusiastically.

 

Valkyrie and Bruce share a smile, happy that he is keen on the proposition.

 

“It’ll only be for a couple of weeks,” Bruce explains, “but I thought you might like to come back with me and spend some time with everyone. There’s a lotta’ new members dying to meet the god of thunder,” he entreats.

 

Thor’s smile grows even wider. “Is that so?” he preens.

 

“What do you think, love?” Valkyrie tests. “Would you be okay going to stay there for a couple of weeks...? I’m not trying to get you out of the way I just... want to do the right things to help you...”

 

Thor reassures her by reaching for her hand.

 

“I want to go,” he confirms. “You need time to yourself—to be our king! And I... I need to reconnect with my friends. So… thank you, for thinking of me.”

 

Valkyrie smiles, a little wistful but relieved nonetheless as she rubs the back of his hand with her thumb.

 

“Well,” Thor concludes chirpily, “I had better go and pack!”

 

“Yes, you had,” Valkyrie agrees, making to clear his plate and the mugs, but Thor beats her to it and gives her a kiss on the cheek before going to get ready.

 

“Hey,” Bruce says gently, noticing the guilt in her mannerisms. “This isn’t like you’re sending him off to boarding school because you can’t handle looking after him, y’know? You’re doing everything you can to help him. Just because some time apart will benefit you too doesn’t make it selfish.”

 

She nods, gently catching the tip of her nose with her index finger and sniffling.

 

“I just don’t want him to feel... _unwanted_ , you know? The other day when he thought I wanted to get away from him and... didn’t want to be intimate with him... he was really hurt...”

 

Bruce makes an understanding face as he puts a hand on her shoulder.

 

Thor has always been a sensitive soul. It’s just never been obvious to others until now when he is openly vulnerable. But he doesn’t think for a minute that Thor feels begrudgingly toward anyone for how they handle his situation, least of all Valkyrie.

 

Thor knows she is making adjustments to accommodate him and doing all she can, and there is undoubtedly guilt on his side for that too; each feeling as if they’re not doing enough for one another.

 

“This will be good for him,” Bruce confidently asserts. “I’ll take good care of him, I promise.”

 

Valkyrie leans into Bruce then, and they share a brief embrace.

 

“Ah, angry girl,” Bruce remarks in a comforting tone, reminding her of the amity they shared when he was stranded on Sakaar.

 

“Oh, my apologies, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Thor lies smugly as he catches the two hugging.

 

Valkyrie breaks quickly, assuming the defensive role as she begins to lecture him on if he’s got a toothbrush and clean underwear.

 

Bruce chuckles as he watches the exchange. They really are like an old married couple sometimes.

 

“Right! Where to?” Thor cheers as he claps the good doctor on the back.

 

“Uh, to the Quinjet I guess!”

 

Valkyrie follows them to the door, and leans on the frame as she waits for the right moment to say a proper goodbye.

 

Thor beats her to it once again, dumping his bag as Bruce announces he is going to warm up the engines.

 

He kisses her deeply on the lips, breaking only to rest his forehead against hers as he holds her face with the gentlest touch of his fingertips.

 

“Will you miss me?” he asks.

 

Valkyrie makes a half-pout with her lips to appear obstinate and lightly thumps his belly. “Of course I will, fool. You really have to ask?”

 

Thor grunts at the light punch and chuckles, brushing noses with her. “I just wanted to hear you say it,” he admits.

 

She can’t suppress her smile, and goes in to kiss him again before tugging his jumper down to neaten it and giving his belly a little scratch where she had prodded him.

 

“I love you, you big idiot. Take care of yourself and be good.”

 

Thor blinks, frowning a little as if he misheard her.

 

“You love me?” he parrots.

 

“Yes, I do, now go! You’re keeping Bruce waiting,” she dismisses bashfully, giving his chest a shove when he tries to take advantage of her brief moment of romanticism by pestering her to say it again.

 

“Thor!” she admonishes, trying not to laugh when he corals her in the porch and begins kissing her all over in rapid-fire.

 

He stops when he catches her lips again and laughs with her. “I love you, too... your majesty,” he confesses in return.

 

“Go on,” she smiles, giving his tattered cardigan a little tug at the shoulders and neatening that out too. “I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

 

Thor grins, steals one more kiss, and then grabs his bag, waving to her once he’s aboard the Quinjet.

 

Valkyrie watches them take off, and sees Thor’s giddy face appear in the cockpit to continue waving.

 

This is the happiest he’s been in a while, and she will miss him, but she is certain now that this will do him a lot of good. It will do everyone good.

 

“What um... so what was all that back there?” the thunder god asks in a pitched tone; approaching the subject tentatively.

 

“Huh? What was all what?” Bruce huffs a confused laugh.

 

“You know the uh...” Thor alludes by awkwardly miming a hug.

 

“What?” Bruce laughs again. “C’mon Thor. We know each other, we were friends—we _are_ friends.”

 

“No, I know, I know that,” Thor assures. He truly doesn’t mean to make it sound as if he’s jealous or intimidated, he’s just curious. “You know,” he shrugs, his smile dwindling a little.

 

“Thor. I get that you’re feeling a little... inadequate right now, but she loves you,” Bruce shoots straight.

 

Thor nods, his gaze resting by his feet as he gives a meagre chuckle, making his belly bounce.

 

“Yes... she did say so,” he smiles fondly, his cheeks taking colour.

 

Bruce just shakes his head and sets his sights back on the horizon as they hurtle over the North Atlantic.

 

Two fiercely strong, passionate people with all the sense in the world but completely _oblivious_ to the strength and passion of the love between them: he can only hope during his stay that Thor makes the revelation.

 

Upon landing, Thor is particularly thrilled to be greeted by some slightly warmer weather. He loves New Asgard, but it is rather prone to greyness, and it is nice to look across the cityscape with the sun shining.

 

“Hey, Sam,” Bruce acknowledges cordially as they disembark into the hanger, “thanks for guiding us in.”

 

“Anytime, fellas,” the new Captain provides with a salute.

 

“Oh my god,” Thor cheers delightedly, “you’re the new—I saw you on television!” he excites.

 

Sam gives him a cool smile and takes Thor’s outstretched hand, giving him a firm and welcoming handshake.

 

“I don’t believe we’ve formally met, I’m Thor, the uh... the god of—”

 

“God of thunder,” Sam finishes for him. “No introductions needed on your part, I know who you are, your majesty,” he says, clearly teasing but most amicably. “God damn,” he cusses, gripping Thor’s upper arms and giving his muscles a squeeze. “You sure do fit the part, huh? Like a damn Viking,” he enunciates in awe.

 

“Ah-haha! I—I suppose I _am_ a damn Viking,” Thor chuckles, his cheeks adopting a pink hue as he relishes the compliment.

 

He wants to point out how impressed Sam would likely be if he had seen him in his prime, but for the first time, someone on his team is seeing him without comparing him to how he once was and is _fully_ accepting of it.

 

“I’m serious, man. Yer like one of those Olympic weight lifters that throw logs an’ shit. Bet’chu could give the nutty professor here a run for his money,” Sam smirks, roping Bruce into the exchange.

 

Thor laughs heartily and calls Mjölnir to him in excitement.

 

“I would not say no to a rematch now, I think we are still on even footing, Banner!”

 

“No, no, don’t drag me into this. He can go toe to toe with the spider kid instead. Now _that’s_ some real superhuman strength,” Bruce diverts.

 

They share another round of laughs before Sam is notified of his need elsewhere. He claps Thor on the arm as he’s about to leave, but the thunder god steals another moment of his time when he remembers Sam’s predecessor.

 

“Is he here? I would very much like to talk with him again!”

 

“Steve? Nah, ‘fraid you’re a couple weeks too late,” Sam informs.

 

After using up all that was left of the serum in his body going against Thanos, Steve had been rendered his old, fragile self. No less worthy, of course. The little soldier had continued the battle with Mjölnir in hand, but since their victory he retired to months in hospital undergoing treatment for the ailments that had also returned to him.

 

“He just finished a round of antibiotics last month and doctors cleared him so he’s gone travelling. Doin’ some humanitarian work with the Winter Bastard in tow,” the new captain explains.

 

He had of course sent Bucky along with him on the basis of Steve not leaving his stupid lying around. They were a pair not to be separated. Like beanie babies. Just as cute, too.

 

Sam would have preferred that Natasha join them given that he knows first-hand how well she can manage the dysfunctional pair, but she has been spending a lot of time with Laura Barton as of late, and he wouldn’t dare encroach on her hard-earned downtime.

 

Being the new leader of the Avengers is certainly a lot of work, but Sam has received plenty of assurances that he is doing a fine job. He is a fair and empathetic Captain America, though less so when his team refer to him as Uncle Sam.

 

“I’d better go see what this is about,” he politely excuses himself, “but hey, let the jolly green giant here catch you up and we’ll grab a beer some—” he halts when he catches Bruce’s fervent head shaking. “No... beer, got it! Pancakes then,” he winks. “See ya’ round thunder head!”

 

“Yes, see you, man of steel feathers!” Thor calls back, fully on-board with the humorous nicknames.

 

“Hey, it’s Cap now, don’t forget it!”

 

“Uncle Sam,” Bruce mouths to Thor.

 

“I heard that!” Sam’s disembodied voice yells from the corridor.

 

“Oh hey, c’mere,” the good doctor says, laughing off Sam’s protest as he heads back to his desk. “Got something else for ya’.”

 

“F-for me?” Thor blinks innocently, surprised by the gesture.

 

“Yeah. I know you’ve been struggling with your panic attacks a lot lately...” Bruce carefully mentions. “It’s a weighted blanket. You’d be surprised how many of us have them. Scott, Bucky—it’s great for anxiety,” he concludes, realising he just divulged some rather personal information about his teammates they probably wouldn’t appreciate.

 

Thor catches on, pretending not to have heard, but he is secretly quite glad to know he’s not the only one struggling with such feelings and inhibitions.

 

Knowing there are perfectly functional, strong people who are very much heroes yet are still not immune to doubt or emotional damage is comforting. Gods, mortals, super-humans and alien beings alike, mental illness doesn’t discriminate.

 

The thunder god says nothing, just goes in to hug Bruce, and Bruce holds him even when the hug lasts longer than it should.

 

“Thank you,” Thor sniffles.

 

“Hey,” Bruce purrs, stroking his hair very gently. “You’re welcome.”

 

He gets the feeling Thor isn’t just thanking him for the blanket by this point, but Bruce is happy to provide comfort whenever and however he needs it.

 

Thor should never feel so unused to compassion and respect that even small gestures of kindness make him cry, but it’s clear that between him and Valkyrie it will take a lot of work to reform Thor’s opinion of himself and undo the hurtful words of his past peers.

 

“Hey big fella’, why don’t I show you around? Catch you up?” the patient hero suggests, encouraging Thor to break the hug of his own volition.

 

“Yes!” the thunder god sniffs, quickly drying his eyes. “I would like that very much.”

 

Thor is no stranger to the Avengers Compound. The layout of the grounds is relatively the same but there are a few new structures and something a little less military about the place. It feels much more scholarly now, but he can safely assume that’s Bruce’s influence.

 

Bruce tells him of everyone’s new positions; Pepper being their chief executive and handler of publicity, (a job that has become much easier for her now with relatively mild-mannered heroes to watch over), Scott Lang is the new head of engineering, and Bruce himself has really grown into his role of overseer.

 

“Ho-ly cow!” an excited voice exclaims as Bruce ends the tour in the rec room where Peter and Scott can often be found playing video games together.

 

“Y-you’re Thor, right? The god of thunder? Man it is a huge honour! I wanted to ask you for your autograph, y’know, after the big fight? Never got the chance but, man, you’re here!” Peter Parker rambles as he speed-walks from the couch to them with his hand outstretched the whole time, ready to shake.

 

Thor dons another genuine smile as he gladly greets the young avenger.

 

“Peter is kind of what you’d call, ‘acting head boy’. He’s continuing his internship with the others we’ve been taking on,” Bruce elaborates.

 

“We set up a trust in Mr. Stark’s name so that we can let kids come here and invent stuff!” Peter explains.

 

“Lotta’ young people can’t afford to go to college these days; aspiring engineers and scientists and medics—the kinda’ people we need out there—so we invite ‘em here to use the facility and develop their ideas, get them scholarships, grants, whatever they need to get in,” Bruce more eloquently rephrases.

 

“I think that’s wonderful,” Thor declares, hand still ensnared by Peter’s enthusiastic grip.

 

“Peter,” Bruce points out, “a handshake doesn’t need to last that long, buddy.”

 

“Oh!” the teen realises, quickly releasing the thunder god, who just chuckles fondly. “Sorry Mr. Thor—God of-of Thunder—or your majesty? Do I call you... um, what?” he trails off nervously.

 

“Thor is fine,” the amused Asgardian assures with a pat on the shoulder.

 

“Great! So Mr. Thor—I mean, just Thor—do you wanna’ maybe uh... do you wanna’ play some video games with me?”

 

Bruce smirks when he sees Thor’s face light up. He had an inkling that pairing Thor and Peter would be a good decision. Like two puppies, one of a large fluffy working breed and the other small and domesticated but both equally as excitable and sweet-natured.

 

“Peter here’s undefeated at dance party and since Scott just bought a Switch it’s been pretty hard to tear him away from it,” Bruce explains like some kind of wildlife documenter.

 

“It’s really cool! Mr. Lang is great at Wii Sports!”

 

“Do you have Fortnite?” Thor asks, intrigued already.

 

“Fuck yeah we have Fortnite!”

 

“Hey!” Bruce admonishes.

 

“Oops, sorry!” Peter apologises, realising immediately after what he’d just said and covering his mouth like that will put the word back in there.

 

It’s _hard_ not to forget oneself with excitement when faced with the prospect of playing video games with an actual Norse god, who is of course laughing _riotously_ at the exchange.

 

“Your name isn’t Noobmaster69, is it?” Thor then interrogates, narrowing his eyes.

 

“What? No—”

 

              “Who?” Peter and Bruce talk over each other with bemused expressions.

 

“Haha! I like Peter very much,” Thor admits, clapping the boy on the back firmly. Peter doesn’t even budge either, much to his surprise.

 

“Well you guys have fun, but no making a mess and—actually that reminds me—have you done your assignments for school?”

 

“Which school?” Peter blinks.

 

“Your real school, dummy! I don’t give you any assignments,” the tireless scientist clarifies.

 

“Oh yeah! Don’t worry, don’t worry, like Aunt May would let me come over here if I hadn’t,” the peppy teen coolly reassures.

 

“Well if you haven’t and she comes knocking I won’t be telling her you’re not here like last time.”

 

“Dr. Banner!” Peter hisses, “you’re embarrassing me in front of Thor—th-the god of thunder!”

 

Bruce just chuckles and shakes his head, conceding to the young hero. He has successfully made Thor laugh more times in the last five minutes than anyone has in the last five years, so for that he gets a free pass today.

 

Bruce doesn’t check in on the pair until late evening. They have been gaming all day and it appears that Nintendo have gained a very avid fan in the god of thunder.

 

“Hey, I thought I told you about making a mess,” Bruce says as he comes in to find a stack of pizza boxes and empty soda cans littered around the two.

 

“Sorry! I’ll tidy up!” Peter says. He’s obviously just trying to dismiss him as he grapples with the Mario Kart steering wheel, attempting to run Thor off the rainbow road, but Peter is nothing if not earnest and well meaning, so Bruce can trust that he won’t leave the place like this.

 

“That pizza is for you, anyway!” he points out, taking a hand off the wheel for just a moment and costing himself the race.

 

“Yes! Hah!” Thor cheers.

 

“How are you so _good_?!” Peter despairs.

 

“Ahhh, do not lose heart, young one!” the zealous demi-god consoles, shaking his shoulder affectionately. “I am simply just better at everything than everyone else!”

 

Bruce takes a seat and helps himself to pizza, taking quiet note of how quickly Thor’s unbridled confidence returned to him just now.

 

It’s nice to see him have a victory. Lord knows he needs it, but Peter doesn’t, and that’s what makes it even more meaningful. Peter isn’t letting him win to make him feel better at all; he really is _just_ terrible at anything other than dance party.

 

Bruce has gone back to his lab to continue some work by the time the pair call it a night. Thor could play into the early hours, but Peter has yawned seven times in the last ten minutes and while insisting he isn’t tired, Thor decides to take a big brotherly stance and ensure he retires to bed.

 

He tidies up their snack wrappers and empty soda cans and pizza boxes, not wanting to get his new friend into trouble for leaving the place like this.

 

Peter had fought valiantly in every trial and is a worthy opponent, Thor concludes. Truly, he hasn’t had a night so invigorating since his first evening home with Valkyrie.

 

“Good night, Bruce,” he calls through the glass partition where the diligent professor looks fixated on something under the microscope.

 

“Night,” he responds, raising a huge hand but not diverting his full attention for a second. It must be very intense whatever he is studying, Thor thinks to himself.

 

He finds his way to his room with little trouble, and he reflects on the good day he’s had fondly until he drifts off to sleep with pleasant thoughts.

 

They don’t, however, stay pleasant once he is unconscious. He cannot remember a thing of the nightmare after he is forcefully awoken; bolt upright in bed, drenched in sweat and tears blinding his vision as he utters a name in search of comfort.

 

“Hilde?” he whimpers, not recognising where he is at first or why his beloved isn’t beside him, holding him. “H-Hilde?! H—” he pauses as he’s about to get out of bed, recalling that she is back in New Asgard and he is New York.

 

He hiccups, trying to calm himself by breathing and resting his head between his knees for a moment.

 

He had missed her greatly during his time with the guardians, or certainly he thought he had, but now he’s not sure if he has ever missed _anyone_ quite like this.

 

His mother, perhaps, or Loki... but the longing is different. When he thinks about his Valkyrie he can’t imagine never having her in his life—or even so much as how his life was before her.

 

“B-Bruce?” he calls out instead, trembling as his body goes into grief.

 

He feels suddenly very alone; frightened and vulnerable in a foreign place, which is troubling for a man who has always been able to make anywhere his dwelling and get very comfortable right away, be it a temporary place like a café or a place he has no dominion over like The Benatar.

 

Thor is perfectly comfortable having no control over an environment, but having no control over himself is crippling.

 

“Banner?” he calls out again feebly, deciding to get up and search for comfort if it cannot come to him.

 

“Banner?” he mews timidly as he shuffles down the hall, not knowing which room to find him.

 

He hears snoring as he comes to the end of the dorm, and rounds the corner back into the lounge only to spy Bruce on the other side of the glass partition, asleep at his desk.

 

It would appear that he hasn’t left his lab since Thor had said good night, and a bitter feeling swirls in his stomach at the thought of waking him. It would be selfish and pathetic and burdensome of him to do so, but thinking those things of himself only brings more tears, and Thor can’t help himself for asking.

 

“Banner?” he tries again, waiting anxiously in the doorway. “B-Bruce?”

 

Bruce stirs, making a sound akin to the old, ‘no I wasn’t asleep—just resting my eyes,’ line.

 

When he does open his eyes though he meets with a dishevelled Thor; baggy t-shirt and pyjama pants all skewed and creased as he stands there looking small and frightened, wringing his hands.

 

“Hey, big guy, hey,” Bruce panders, his voice so soft and sympathetic as he sits up and beckons Thor over. “What’s the matter, huh?” he invites him to tell, embracing the thunder god as he glomps onto him and starts to sob.

 

“Nightmare? You feelin’ homesick?”

 

Thor nods and wails, muffling the hurt sound in Bruce’s chest.

 

“Hey... hey, it’s okay. It’s okay,” Bruce hushes, rubbing his back soothingly.

 

He spots the weighted blanket then that Thor must have set down before going for a tour of the compound and forgotten about.

 

“Hey, c’mon big fella’, why don’t we get you back to bed? I’ll come with you,” the gentle giant coaxes.

 

He picks up the blanket, keeping a hand on Thor’s shoulder as he guides him back to his room.

 

The bed dips heavily when he sits on the edge, more so as Thor gets in and instinctively turns toward him for comfort.

 

Bruce spreads the blanket out over Thor then, tucking him at the edges to make him feel secure, and lo and behold, he looks significantly calmer after just a few minutes under it.

 

“Feel better?” Bruce smiles, rubbing his arm gently.

 

“I—I don’t understand,” Thor hiccups. “I had such a good a day I... it’s the happiest I’ve felt I—”

 

“I know, I know,” Bruce hushes. “It’s good that you had a good day. You’re gunna’ have lots of good days,” he reassures. “But sometimes when you’re... going through trauma, your emotions they just... don’t always happen at the right times...”

 

He tries his best to explain it without going straight to the crutch of a scientific analysis, bringing up serotonin and chemical imbalances and what not.

 

“Sometimes it hurts for what seems like no reason... sometimes... ya’ don’t feel the emotions you think you should be feeling or you feel too many emotions at once...”

 

Thor seems to be getting drowsy just listening to his voice Bruce realises, so he keeps on talking.

 

“You’re on the right path, though, big guy... you’re doin’ great... and you’re gunna’ have so many more good days,” he promises, stroking his hair gently as Thor’s breathing comes heavy.

 

He stays for a little while even when the thunder god is blatantly asleep. Watching over him just as Valkyrie would.

 

After all, he had promised her he would take good care of him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it doesn't seem like that many ppl are enjoying this fic but it feels such a shame to just stop sharing it (´＿｀。)


	7. Chapter 7

The next day marks the start of spring break, and Peter has made it apparent that he plans to spend the entirety of it here gaming with his new best friend.

 

“Don’t you have any homework to do? No assignments or... _something_?” Bruce grumbles when he looks up to see the bright-eyed teen in his usual spot, perpetually excellent posture diminished as he slouches like a troglodyte.

 

“At least sit up straight,” Scott chimes in as he comes through with a latte and some blueprints he’s been working on.

 

“Hey Mr. Lang!” Peter cheerily greets him.

 

Bruce thanks Scott as he hands him the sheets and takes the coffee too.

 

“Oh, ah, actually that was—”

 

“God, thanks, I really needed it,” Bruce sighs after a long sip, not hearing a word of Scott’s protest.

 

“Never mind, s'yours—I _did_ get it for you,” the good-natured hero declares. “So what’s up, kid?” he asks, turning his attention to Peter.

 

“Not much,” the teen replies without really thinking.

 

“Shouldn’t you uh… be outside with your friends, y’know climbing trees and throwing rocks at each other?” Scott wonders concernedly, taking a seat on the couch where Peter has gone back to being hunched on the floor to be closer to the TV.

 

“Nah, we don’t really do those things anymore. The rocks and trees stopped being interesting around the same time the dinosaurs went extinct?”

 

Bruce can be heard spluttering mid-sip across the room, blindsided by the uncharacteristically searing wit.

 

“Are we sure this isn’t Stark’s illegitimate son?!” Scott gawps, wounded.

 

“I’m sorry, I think he was possessed for a moment,” Bruce replies, starting to laugh now the shock has worn off.

 

“What are you talking about?” a bemused voice joins the conversation, “he learned to trash talk from me.”

 

“Oh, _that_ makes sense,” Scott groans, still stung by the insult.

 

“ _What are those_?!” Peter speaks up with precise diction.

 

“ _They_ are my _crocs_!” comes the reply as the pair begin laughing.

 

“ _What_?” Scott huffs under his breath with feeling.

 

“Hey Shuri, your brother send you?” Bruce greets the other teen.

 

“No. As a matter of fact I came alone specially to give you this,” she smirks, handing over a small cartridge. “This is everything I was able to extract from The Vision before... well, you know better than I.”

 

“Shuri...” Bruce murmurs, marvelling over the little device. “Do you think it’ll be enough to recreate him?”

 

“You will have to see for yourself, doctor Banner. I’m afraid I have my own research to do,” she says teasingly.

 

“And they were _roommates_!” Peter hollers.

 

“Oh my god they were roommates,” Shuri finishes once again.

 

“These kids are so arrogant,” Bruce sighs in humorous disbelief as the young inventor takes her leave.

 

“Tell me about it, the jump from eleven to sixteen? It’s impossible to catch up on. Cassie’s already having driving lessons,” Scott despairs.

 

“Oh hey, Mr. Lang, I just unlocked a new location! Wanna’ play?” Peter offers, having only zoned in and out to yell inside jokes at Shuri.

 

“Ah, I’d better not,” Scott declines disappointedly. “Speaking of kids I really should get home. Cassie’s coming to stay this weekend and Hope says if I don’t tidy the house before then, she won’t bring home Taco Bell for dinner.”

 

Peter makes a hissing sound through his teeth like it stings to hear that. “No Taco Bell if you don’t clean the house, huh? Bringing out the big guns.”

 

“Yup,” Scott sighs, pushing up off his knees to stand. “I’ll catch you guys later, lemme’ know what you think of those blueprints, too. I’ll work on adjustments tomorrow.”

 

“Will do, thanks for your hard work, Scott. Good luck cleaning the house,” Bruce smiles.

 

“Yeah, thanks... think I’ll take a nap first though,” the hard-working hero declares through a yawn.

 

Scott is a diligent guy anyway, but since being offered a full-time place among The Avengers by Sam, the size-changing hero has been striving to prove himself every day.

 

He is determined to pay Maggie five years’ worth of child support that he missed, despite her insistence that to have him back is enough, but known only to Bruce and Sam, he has also been saving to buy an engagement ring for Hope. Therefore Bruce never discourages Scott’s hard work.

 

He has already proved himself to his team; it’s himself he’s really working hard for.

 

Afternoon makes a steady approach, and Thor hasn’t emerged from his room yet.

 

Valkyrie had warned Bruce that on bad days he really struggles to get out of bed and do things, even if he’s not sleeping.

 

It would be sad to see him that way, but Bruce wonders if someone other than himself might be better suited to coaxing the thunder god out of bed...

 

“Hey, kid, make yourself useful, would ya’?” Bruce speaks up. “Go and ask Thor what he wants for lunch, see if he’s up yet.”

 

Peter doesn’t object in the slightest to that request. He’s getting hungry too and it _had_ crossed his mind that Thor seemed to be sleeping in quite late.

 

He’s ready to take him on again in another Mario Kart match, and this time he’s sure he’ll win having had all morning to practise.

 

The young avenger is about half way down the corridor to Thor’s room when there’s a loud sound outside. It’s not uncommon for practical field tests to cause the occasional ruckus like that, but _then_ his Spidey-Senses give him a jolt.

 

He speeds up, and around the next corner he spots Thor braced against the wall just outside his room.

 

“Hey!” he calls to him, reaching the thunder god just before he kowtows to his knees. “Woah-oh-okay! I got’cha,” he reassures, taking all of Thor’s weight as he holds onto him.

 

“You okay, Mr. Thor—I mean Thor?” Peter stammers, a little nervous seeing such a mighty man so vulnerable all of a sudden.

 

“I—I think I’m having a panic attack,” Thor breathlessly informs, eyes starting to well with tears as his heart pounds with the force of Sleipnir’s eight galloping hooves.

 

Catching sight of a slightly too hasty hand movement, Thor flinches and cries out, causing himself to tumble backward as he brings up a defensive arm to shield himself.

 

“P-please don’t!” he implores, his panic spurred by a flash of the slap across the face he received the last time he lost control like this.

 

“Oh, hey,” Peter sympathises, taking heed of Thor’s apprehension. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you—psh, like I could, big strong... big strong guy like you,” he rambles.

 

It’s admittedly disconcerting to see Thor cry; but no more than it is to see any adult cry. But it doesn’t change his opinion of him in the slightest; rather it makes Peter suddenly _very_ protective.

 

He kneels closer then, gently placing his hands on the thunder god’s shoulders like he’s approaching an agitated stallion.

 

“I-I am sorry, I am behaving like a fool,” Thor hiccups,

 

“No, no way,” the young hero reassures, “I get them too. Just need to take deep breaths, just like this,” he coaches, smiling encouragingly when he successfully gains the older Avenger’s confidence.

 

Thor follows his breathing, doing it just like he does at home. It takes him a minute or two, and Peter thinks he’s got this under control until there’s another crash outside.

 

Thor flinches and covers his ears, sobbing as he starts to shake.

 

It’s not so much the noise itself, but the being caught off guard that frightens him. It’s the feeling of being under attack; sudden powerlessness and disorientation that allows his mind to be flooded with images of war and horrors he no longer takes pride in surviving but instead wishes to forget.

 

“God dammit,” Peter curses under his breath, wishing there was someone else here who could at least go and tell them to stop for a minute.

 

He cradles Thor’s head protectively when he senses him looking for a way to hide himself, concluding that he isn’t averse to being touched even in this fragile state.

 

Some people don’t like the physical contact, but it seems as though Thor searches for it as a way of grounding himself, so Peter holds him as firmly as his little arms can hold a man so big.

 

Thor keeps his ears covered, but Peter continues to talk to him, hoping he can feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest.

 

“You’re safe. I promise,” he tells him. “I know the loud noises are scary but there’s _nothing_ here that can hurt you. Except maybe Captain Danvers but she’s not here right now, a-and I don’t think she’d hurt you anyway! Everyone here is really nice and doctor Banner says he won’t stand for in-house fighting anymore s-so… god what am I talking about?” he mutters to himself.

 

Now that he’s done rambling he notices that Thor is no longer shaking quite so violently. There hasn’t been another loud noise yet either, but to be sure Peter continues holding the god of thunder, gently rubbing his back as he offers a well-meaning hush instead.

 

“It’s okay… I’ll protect you, Mr. Thor,” he concludes.

 

“Thank you, Peter,” Thor finally speaks up, remembering his name correctly: not Spider-Boy or child or Man of Spiders this time.

 

Having not realised he was able to hear him again, Peter turns bashful and proceeds to run off about how it was nothing and he’s welcome.

“A-are you okay now? Do you feel… you feelin’ okay?” he then asks, making sure Thor is happy for him to let go before doing so.

 

“I am,” Thor nods, withdrawing from the embrace and clapping a hand to Peter’s forearm in gratitude. He’s still a little uneasy, but certain that he has retreated from the brunt of the attack. “Thank you again.”

 

“No big deal, see? You handled that like a pro,” the kind-hearted teen assures.

 

 “Yes, well I... I think I shall return to my quarters. I may just be a little overwhelmed,” the thunder god excuses himself, shame setting in now that his moment of weakness has passed.

 

Peter opens his mouth to say something else, but practises quiet understanding instead as he helps Thor back on his feet.

 

He remembers then what he had been originally sent for.

 

“Oh, wait! Lunch! I’m going to get lunch from the deli! Do uh, do you want anything? Doctor Banner said to ask.”

 

“Banner... is he uh... is he in his lab?” Thor enquires, pausing as he’s about to enter his room.

 

Peter nods and gives a confident ‘mhm’.

 

“Thank you,” Thor says again, patting Peter’s shoulder with a shaky hand. “I will leave the matter of lunch in your capable hands.”

 

Peter watches him head in the other direction, but he can’t help feeling that there’s something more he could do—something more that Thor _needs_ —a way to make him feel more at ease here and less prone to such attacks…

 

“Hey, big guy, we were wondering what was keeping you,” Bruce greets the demi-god in his doorway. He could tell it was Thor by the flash of golden hair appearing in his peripheral view.

 

“Banner,” Thor returns the greeting with a weary smile, taking a seat at his desk.

 

“Oh, yeesh, you look a little pale, pal,” Bruce notes, giving Thor his full attention now. “How are you feeling?” he queries.

 

“Hah,” the thunder god laughs mirthlessly. “I suppose I... I am feeling a little sensitive…”

 

He starts to tear up, but Bruce just listens patiently, waiting for Thor to work it out.

 

“Just now I... there was a noise and... the boy he—he had to see me like that—it was humiliating!  H-he must think me so pathetic!” Thor cries.

 

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” the good doctor reassures, reminding Thor to breathe.

 

“Why can I not just be _brave_? Why can I not be as I _used_ to be?” the thunder god curses.

 

Bruce rubs his cheek with the curve of his index finger so gently, catching the tears as they start to escape.

 

He understands the feeling well.

 

Being so helpless before the snap when he couldn’t get the Hulk to respond; he imagines that’s the same kind of helplessness Thor is feeling now, unable to get his feelings to respond as he expects them to.

 

It’s like an integral part of himself is trapped inside somewhere; his rational, optimistic, confident self.

 

But Bruce understands that too. He understands being trapped in a body that he lacks control over. He understands having emotions that take him at whim. He has lived with _all_ of that for years.

 

But that’s why he can say with absolute _certainty_ that it is possible to free the person inside, and live harmoniously with qualities of both.

 

He’s never going to cure himself of the Hulk, just like Thor will never be cured of the scars his trauma leaves behind. But as Bruce has come to realise, a cure isn’t always necessary.

 

It’s not possible to undo the effects of life, but it is more than possible to recover from them and become stronger for it.

 

For Bruce, it took patience and self-reflection to bring about this ideal version of Banner and Hulk, but what it took most of all, and the thing Thor truly needs to grant himself, was time.

 

The thunder god has experienced a huge amount of trauma in a very short space of it, and none too long ago either. Those memories are fresh in his mind and the triggers to invoke them are numerous.

 

But having suffered all of that as well, Bruce is able to understand and have patience with Thor, perhaps more limitlessly than anyone else.

 

Thor nods; taking Bruce’s every word to heart. He knows it can be done, but when one is trapped at the bottom of a well it is often impossible to imagine oneself ever stood above it again, looking down.

 

“It is just that... I cry all the time...” Thor continues to confess, tearing up even as he says it. “It—it must be so annoying for everyone else...”

 

“Hey, no,” Bruce disagrees, a sympathetic frown creasing his brow. “You’re not annoying. You’re great!”

 

His cheerfulness gets a watery chuckle out of Thor, but Bruce can see that the thunder god needs more convincing, and he doesn’t waver even when he sees the sadness building up again.

 

“But s-some days I—I am tired for no reason...” Thor complains, “I think I am just lazy and worthless and—”

 

“Thor,” Bruce soothes, gently moving a straggle of hair from his face and tucking it behind his ear with such practised care. “You know that’s not true. We need to work on that, pal… get you talking about your feelings without beating yourself up every other sentence,” he sweetly prescribes.

 

Thor nods, catching Bruce’s hand as he is about to withdraw, and holding it to his cheek. “I’m sorry,” he sniffles. “I just… do not know what is wrong with me…”

 

“What’s wrong with you is that you’re depressed,” Bruce reminds, giving his cheek a tender brush of his thumb. “You’ve been through a lot, and your response to trauma doesn’t make you _lazy_ or _worthless_. I think you’re _brave_ , and I can see how much you want to get better. You’re working really hard and it’s paying off, big guy, I promise.”

 

The thunder god smiles fondly then as a certain avenger comes to mind.

 

“I appreciate your words of encouragement, Banner, but I believe it is Peter who should be credited for my progress these last few days,” he admits.

 

Bruce returns the smile, but knowingly shakes his head.

 

“Peter’s a great kid, but you’ve done plenty on your own to tackle your troubles, Thor. And I know you’re gunna’ go even farther. I believe in you, big guy,” he asserts.

 

“Thank you for having patience with me, Banner.”

 

“Always,” Bruce promises, shadowing the back of Thor’s head as he invites his friend in for a hug. “You _can_ get better. And you don’t have to do it alone. Your friends love you, and we’re here to help.”

 

They stay like this for a long, peaceful moment. Bruce is sure that the power of human contact and the tenderness of touch can never be underestimated. If anything, it’s the one thing he himself could have done to receive more of during his five years of transformation. Though Nat was more than generous, he warmly recalls.

 

Thor breaks the hug himself this time, feeling _for_ the first time as though his heart is a little lighter. He picked a good moment, too, as not a second later, Pepper taps on the open glass door politely.

 

“Miss Potts,” Thor recognises, smiling brightly.

 

“Hogan, now,” she corrects.

 

Thor doesn’t fully understand, but he smiles and laughs along with her and Bruce.

 

“What can I do for you, Pepper?” the good doctor then kindly extends.

 

She holds up a portfolio in response.

 

“Ah, finally, some good news,” he cheers. “The new accords. _Our_ accords,” Bruce clarifies for Thor.

 

“Wow, I know a little girl that would love to braid all that hair,” Pepper smiles as she passes by the thunder god to hand Bruce the documents.

 

“By all means,” the sweet-natured Asgardian grins.

 

“Oh that reminds me, we have your suit! Scott has been making upgrades for everyone so we factored you in,” she elatedly informs.

 

“Ah... thank you for thinking of me,” Thor says with a dwindling smile, “but I am not staying.”

 

“Sure you don’t wanna’ try it on?” the prim woman gently nudges.

 

Thor declines again with a shake of his head. It’s too soon for him to don armour again. He’s had enough of being a warrior for now. It’s time he fought some different, more internal battles.

 

“These look great, Pepper, thank you,” Bruce says as he finishes reading through the proposal and hands the file back to her.

 

“I’ll get these sent out. And let me know if you change your mind about the suit, sweetheart,” she reminds Thor with a kind rub of his shoulder.

 

Thor doubts he’ll want to, but he gives her a grateful smile anyway. Truth be told it’s just nice to be around a team who are gentle with him, but he’s not ready to re-join that path yet.

 

Not long after Pepper leaves, Peter returns. He comes skidding into the lab, arms full of packaged baked goods including a rather precariously balanced box from the bakery next door to the deli.

 

“Sorry I’m late!” he cries, “I stopped by my place first to get something for Mr. Thor!”

 

“You went _all the way_ back to _Queens_?” Bruce asks, initially shocked, but then less so when he remembers that with his upgraded suit, Peter can get there in almost as little time as the Quinjet.

 

The teen dumps all the food on one of the few scarcely scattered spaces in Bruce’s lab and takes his sandwich.

 

“I got you this one, Mr. Th—I mean Thor,” he eagerly supplies, handing him an all-day breakfast wrap. “And these,” he continues, offering up two pizza melts and a sharing-size bag of chips. “And I have something else to show you!”

 

Thor is back to beaming just from listening to the excitable teen go on.

 

It’s nice to see that he inspires this effect on people still; Peter seems to genuinely love his company, and Thor feels the same way. But more than anything, he’s just relieved that Peter doesn’t seem to have changed his attitude toward him in the slightest, even after seeing him in such a state barely an hour ago.

 

He follows the young Avenger into the lounge and tucks into his sandwich, watching as Peter pulls his rucksack into his lap and produces a pretty large handheld device adorned with stickers.

 

“Here, this is what I went home for,” Peter explains, inserting a cartridge at the back and opening the lid of the console before handing it to Thor.

 

“I was thinking about what I could do, y-y’know, to help with your panic attacks? Aunt May got me this  for Christmas instead of GTA. I didn’t think I’d like it at first but it’s actually pretty cool, you make a town and you can build your own house, and all the townspeople are animals and—w-well, it’s maybe a little babyish for you, but... it helps,” he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck apprehensively as Thor takes the device.

 

Indeed he looks a little comical holding a dainty stylus between his big barbarian digits, but his face lights up when a chittering voice comes out of the speaker and an indiscernible creature asks him his name.

 

“Thor,” he replies out loud, frowning when the animation goes idle waiting for a response.

 

Peter chuckles and leans in to help him, “it’s not like that, Mr. Thor. You type it in, see?” he demonstrates, guiding Thor’s hand to the keys.

 

Bruce is smiling as he quietly eats his own lunch across the room. He feels an odd sense of paternity watching the two interact. He supposes really it’s just because it’s so nice seeing someone other than himself being gentle with Thor, but Peter is always a dependable candidate for such things.

 

Thor ends up playing all afternoon on the game, every so often celebrating his accomplishments by telling Peter and receiving earnest enthusiasm every time he asks for help.

 

Bruce finds himself looking up fondly more and more as he is trying to work, chuckling at the funny things the two say to each other and appreciating that, out of context, it must sound like the most _bizarre_ and unlikely conversation ever.

 

Unable to resist, he ends up joining them later in the evening as they move on to the cakes Peter had brought back. Thor is delighted to learn that Peter—or rather, Spider-Man—is something of a local celebrity himself, and comes away wildly impressed by the younger hero’s tales of victory.

 

However, he is not surprised of his spectacularity. Peter has already proved himself to be a compassionate and thoughtful person, and Thor suspects he may well be a worthy wielder of Mjölnir. One day, certainly.

 

As the scattered avengers all start returning to the compound that night, even Sam joins them later on, updating them on his most recent solo mission but more avidly updating them on Steve.

 

“Got a post-card from them saying they’re making a stop in Singapore,” he shares. “Don’t think the White Lapdog has quite got the hang of texting yet.”

 

“What’re you talking about, Mr. Wilson? I get texts from Mr. Bucky all the time; he even knows how to use emojis,” Peter enlightens.

 

“Aw, that’s sweet that he went to the effort of sending you a card,” Bruce pours.

 

Sam rolls his eyes but smirks nonetheless. He and Bucky have a very tenuous relationship, but since being forced to team up on several recent occasions, there is certainly a warmth for one another developing, however begrudgingly.

 

Peter is always reminded of Shuri’s speculation about the new duo being the equivalent of the dad in the family resisting the idea of getting a dog, but then ending up loving that dog more than anyone else.

 

From Thor’s perspective, anyway, there seems to be a real harmony between the new Avengers which was never there before. Sam, Bruce and Pepper make an amazing team.

 

The four end up playing Mario Kart into the early hours after eating takeout shawarma. Peter is no more successful at beating Thor, of course, but the good company ends up being everything Thor needed after his rocky start.

 

Eventually Bruce assumes the role of mother-hen and sends them to bed, but Thor finds himself back on Peter’s 3DS under his weighted blanket in no time, and tonight? No anxiety or intrusive thoughts whatsoever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is a little late it needing some heavy editing but i got sidetracked by the 4th of july fic ( ; 3 ; )


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i missed a week i kept adding more and more to this & then found out ab thorquill week on tumblr on the last day so i wanted to draw for that (,,꒪꒫꒪,,) anyway this chapter is extra juicy to make up for it so hope u enjoy i love commentsss~ (●♡∀♡)

 

The past few days of uninterrupted fun have diverted the team’s attention somewhat.

 

Blatantly worth it, but today they are reminded of the fact that they _are technically_ The Avengers, and that, from time to time, they might even be expected to save the world if not _at least_ a major city.

 

It would seem work is on today’s agenda, as it is rare for in-person visits from Captain Marvel, but when there’s an intergalactic dispute that she could use a little backup for, The _Un_ vengers are always ready to help… _usually_ ready to help.

 

“Hey Peter Parker,” Carol says as she appears seemingly out of nowhere between him and Thor causing them both to yelp in surprise.

 

“Captain Danvers!” Peter squeaks.

 

Carol laughs at having successfully scared them both with the same glee a big sister would having one-upped a pesky sibling.

 

“Hey, big guy,” she then smiles, greeting Thor too.

 

“Captain,” Thor grins.

 

“You seen the boss around today?” she wonders.

 

“Doctor Banner?” Peter assumes.

 

“Hah, no, your captain,” she winks. “Where’s Uncle Sam?”

 

“I swear to god I’m developing a sixth sense for when people are saying that,” Sam grumbles as he enters right on cue. “Got a mission for us, Cap?”

 

“Just a small one,” Carol replies. “You guys think ya’ can give me a hand?” she invites as she turns to Thor and Peter.

 

“Not a chance,” Sam declares.

 

“Aw,” Peter groans disappointedly.

 

“You know the rules, Queens. No off-world missions.”

 

“Okay,” the teen mopes.

 

“I’ll brief you in the conference room then. Assemble the others,” Carol declares.

 

Thor sighs a little as he picks up his controller again and continues their game, but that moment of exclusion weighs heavy on him.

 

He knows he’s not ready for another mission yet. But he’s drawn to the thought of his suit waiting for him, and how ironic that the day after he should decline it, he _may_ have need of it.

 

“Peter,” he speaks up. “If I were to request to join them on their mission, you would not think badly of me, would you? I do not mean this as a betrayal,” the thunder god explains. “If it is only a small quest as Captain Danvers says then… perhaps I am worthy to accompany them?”

 

Peter senses the insecurity there. He can tell Thor is only interested in going because the dormant warrior in him has been prodded into consciousness by the implication that there is a challenge he cannot face.

 

“Ah… I think _maybe_ you should talk to doctor Banner about that,” the teen nervously advises.

 

Thor nods. “Then let us continue our game later!” he beams, having confidence in his conviction as he pats the young Avenger on the shoulder and departs.

 

It’s too late now to tell him that his Spidey-Senses are tingling…

 

The team are already done discussing their plans when Thor arrives, but he spots Bruce and thinks to appeal to him first.

 

“Banner,” he murmurs, unsure if he’s permitted to enter.

 

“Hey, big guy!  We’re just finishing up here. Whad’ya need?” Bruce cheerily acknowledges.

 

“I… I wonder if I might join everyone on their mission,” the thunder god boldly enquires.

 

Sam stops still and shares a look of concern with Bruce, who adopts that tell-tale smile when he is about to try and politely insist that something probably isn’t a good idea.

 

“Why not?” Carol chirps before the pair have even said the inevitable out-loud. “I’ll look out for him. He’ll be no bother. It’ll do the guy good to get out in the field again, right?”

 

Thor lights up at her optimism.

 

“I won’t be a burden!” he confidently assures, hoping that will lend to his case.

 

Sam shrugs and makes a face that implies he’s not opposed to the idea, and Carol smiles at Bruce, sensing he is the only one remaining who bears any apprehension.

 

“I’ll take good care of him,” she winks.

 

Bruce sighs, but he has to concede if for no other reason than the look of sheer hope on Thor’s face.

 

It’s trial and error, and he must admit on a simple scouting mission there’s probably no better opportunity for him to get at least a little taste of being part of the team again. Maybe this _could_ be good for his self-esteem.

 

Having taken the liberty to inform the other Avengers of Thor’s situation prior to this, he can safely assume that Carol is comfortable with what she’s getting into taking him on, and he doesn’t doubt that she will defend him with her life. Thor will be in safe hands.

 

It’s decided, and no one seems more excited than Pepper when she brings Thor his suit.

 

“Look at you!” she cheers when he joins them in his new regalia, looking every bit the part of a Viking deity.

 

Thor is in high spirits from there to take-off to arrival, but that dwindles when they begin their landing.

 

“What is that smell?” Thor asks nervously.

 

“Oh it’s brimstone. We’re right near a volcano. This planet is mostly volcanos, actually,” Carol replies.

 

“Is there likely to be danger here?” Sam asks over the roaring jets as she’s guiding them down.

 

“Maybe. This place used to be a fire demon hot –spot,” she offhandedly informs. “Heh, get it?”

 

Thor wobbles a bit, reaching for something to steady himself and finding Sam’s strong shoulder.

 

“Hey, y’alright?” the sympathetic captain asks aside, more than accommodating as he holds Thor’s arm.

 

The thunder god nods and swallows, but he’s lying, and Sam can tell.

 

“Just… a little anxious to be back in the fray,” he laughs humourlessly.

 

“Alright well, don’t worry… we’re gonna’ take it slow.”

 

Thor nods in understanding. “Thank you… Sam,” he smiles.

 

He forces a brave face, determined not to be afraid out of sheer desperation not to let himself or his team down. After all, he asked for this. But he’s on a knife’s edge trying to keep his nerves in check.

 

They agree it’s best they go about their search as quietly as possible so as not to disturb anything, benign or other.

 

Stepping down into a lush, tropical forest; for a moment it’s purely tranquil, and Thor feels alright, but in a mere moment the ground begins to rumble.

 

Thor’s vision starts to spot and he is knocked by memories of Ragnarok; of battle.

 

“What the hell is that?” Rhodey exclaims as a crash of flaming bodies come roaring toward them.

 

“That’s not right… those shouldn’t be here,” Carol frowns, only seeming mildly concerned despite the imminence of their situation.

 

“They’re getting closer, we gotta’ do something now,” Sam decides, unfurling his wings as he takes to the sky to see just how many strong the hoard is.

 

“Widow,” Carol commands, “get yourself some more firepower… and we could do with a little lightning,” she grins as she turns to give Thor his moment of pride, only to find the thunder god is not on the same page at all. “Thor—”

 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I can’t! I can’t do it!” Thor cries, covering his ears as he drops his weapons. “I don’t want to fight! I—I’m scared!”

 

“Oh god dammit, fat load’a good this guy turned out to be!” Rhodey curses as he lights up a line of advancing enemies and clears a path in the brush for someone to get to Thor.

 

“Keep that line back,” Carol orders as she gives him an advantage with a hefty photon blast aimed at the mass.

 

“Just a scouting mission,” Rhodey mimics angrily, “you didn’t tell us this is what we’d be scouting for, Danvers!”

 

He begrudgingly realises that he could be partly to blame for not asking, of course…

 

“Hey! Hey, sweetie, look at me.”

 

Thor opens his eyes and sees Carol, surprised to find her taking such a tone with him when she is the fiercest one here and the person he had figured most likely to be furious at his incompetence.

 

“I’m sorry!” he weeps, trembling violently.

 

Carol sends another photon blast in the direction of the swarm, which despite Rhodey’s furious cussing, is in fact diminishing.

 

“It’s okay, honey. It’s okay. You weren’t ready. It’s not your fault.”

 

Thor hiccups and nods. It almost makes him cry more just for how nice she is being to him.

 

It’s not common for anyone regardless of how compassionate they are to simply stop mid-battle to comfort someone, least of all the person who is letting the team down.

 

Thor considers then that perhaps this is another of those times where his standards in battle reflect the harsh and not necessarily forgiving nature of his upbringing.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says again. He truly cannot make any other words right now; blinded by tears and breaths coming short.

 

“Shhh, don’t apologise. You don’t need to apologise. I’m gunna’ get you out of here, okay? You’re done for today, you did a good job.”

 

She says it with such sincerity that Thor almost believes her.

 

“Hold on to me, okay?” Carol insists as she gathers the thunder god in her arms and carries him back to the ship.

 

The immediate change of environment brings him overwhelming relief. The derision and the guilt will hit him later, but right now it’s blissful just to be out of that terrifying situation.

 

“Where are you at, Thor? Can you talk to me?”

 

Thor tries, but his chest is so tight and he’s so congested with fear that the best he can do is wheeze and shake his head as fresh tears fill his eyes.

 

Carol is quick to start removing his armour, and when she does Thor gasps as his belly surges forward; his chest no longer confined.

 

He fears perhaps even with the modifications, it has been too long since he last donned it, and his measurements have changed yet again.

 

“Is that better?”

 

Thor nods, too overwhelmed by other emotions to feel any shame right now.

 

“You’re okay, sweetie,” Carol tells him, giving his arm a gentle rub.

 

“Hey Cap, what’s goin’ on up there? We’re all clear. What’s the next move?” Sam alerts over the coms.

 

“We’re done here,” she swiftly decides.

 

“Won’t there be more?” Nat queries.

 

“It doesn’t matter right now. We came, we saw, we know what’s up. I’ll pass on that information and come back here myself. Thanks for your help guys, you were awesome, but I’m calling it.”

 

Nobody has any argument to take with that, and The Avengers move out.

 

Thor is silent on the journey back. He can’t stop trembling and has refused the offer to sit in the passenger chair, so naturally Carol is doing her best to keep a steady course as Nat sits beside the thunder god rubbing his arms through a blanket.

 

They return to Earth swiftly, and Bruce is there to greet them after being informed of their return.

 

He takes it from there, getting Thor safely to his room.

 

Peter doesn’t yet know what happened and as much as Thor would probably love to see him right now, Bruce would rather he just rest now.

 

The first thing Thor says is just after Bruce has tucked him in and is preparing to leave him in peace.

 

“Stay,” he murmurs.

 

Bruce smiles sympathetically, then carefully gets into bed with Thor, just laying behind him at first but soon finding his hand being pulled across to rest on the other man’s belly.

 

“I was such a fool… I was an embarrassment today,” Thor sniffles.

 

“Oh, hey,” Bruce soothes, rubbing gently as he shuffles just a little bit closer to give Thor the comfort of knowing he’s right there. “You didn’t know, big guy. You thought you were ready, turns out you weren’t but it happens. Trial and error, pal,” he reassures.

 

“All my progress,” Thor says, his tone hoarse and laced with anger at himself for what he perceives as having ruined everything he’s accomplished so far. “All the progress that I made, that I—”

 

“Is still there, Thor,” Bruce asserts. “You haven’t lost anything by what happened. You learned that you’re not quite ready to be an Avenger again but hey, so what? Right?”

 

Thor sniffles, quiet tears trickling down his face.

 

“Maybe that’s you done. Maybe fighting’s just not your gig anymore. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing, y’know?”

 

“Don’t,” Thor warns. “I am a warrior. I’ve always been a warrior. I should be able to fight, but I have become a coward.”

 

Bruce detects the anger, and though it’s aimed introspectively, he knows that there is a better way to make Thor understand.

 

“You know, you used to think you were a king, too… but you were brave enough to give that up…”

 

Thor is silent in response to that.

 

“What makes you happy, Thor? Does fighting make you happy? Does putting yourself in war-zones and battle fields make you feel like you have a purpose?”

 

“N-no,” the thunder god whimpers, curling up in fear just thinking of those things.

 

“Then what makes you happy, big guy?”

 

“… Hilde,” Thor smiles, fresh tears brimming quickly and overflowing as he thinks of his beloved. “Hilde makes me happy… a-and cooking, and cleaning, and playing video games with Peter Parker and—when I go home I—I want to plant flowers in the garden and marry Hilde and—”

 

Bruce smiles, almost tearing up himself to hear that confession finally come spilling out.

 

“I want to be Hilde,” Thor says again, his cheeks flushing as the goofiest little schoolboy grin spreads from ear-to-ear. “I want to be her husband and I want to build our home together and—” he sobs, trying to dry his eyes with the backs of his wrists fruitlessly as the tears just keep falling.

 

“There ya’ go, pal,” Bruce confirms. “Sounds like your calling in life is to be a house-husband,” he chuckles.

 

Thor starts to laugh too, happiness spilling from his eyes as he fantasises about the future he wants; the future that he gets to decide to have for himself with the love of his life.

 

“Yes,” he hiccups, “that is what I want.”

 

“Y’see? Being a… great warrior or whatever isn’t what defines you, Thor. If you’re ready to hang up the hammer there’s no shame in that. We’ll always support you in those decisions.”

 

Thor nods, sniffling as he wipes his nose on his arm.

 

“Thank you, Banner,” he smiles. “I feel as if each time we talk like this I… I come closer and closer to finding out who I want to be…”

 

“Anytime, big guy,” Bruce hushes. “We’re all here for you.”

 

Bruce senses that the god of thunder might need a little more comfort, so he stays spooning Thor until he’s snoring heavily.

 

Thinking then is an opportune time to leave him in peace though, Bruce discovers that his hand is in fact being held captive by Thor’s own two hands.

 

The good doctor sighs, but he can’t help smiling.

 

“Guess I’m staying right here then,” he chuckles…

 

 

Bruce only realises that he, too, had ended up taking a nap while he was ensnared by Thor’s desperate hand holding when he is woken by a text.

 

Still unable to get free, he’s forced to turn onto his front while keeping his outside hand against Thor’s belly and reaching into his back pocket with his other to retrieve his phone. 

 

It’s from Sam, and it reads: ‘Hey, how’s the big guy doing? We’ve been talking and we want to do something nice for him. Thinking baseball on the test field? Let me know.’

 

Bruce texts back, ‘still asleep. thought a nap might do him good. will let u know..’

 

Just as he sends the message, the thunder god stirs beside him, calling out a weak enquiry.

 

“Banner?” he murmurs, rubbing his eyes as he turns over.

 

“Hey, big guy,” Bruce croons, gently using his now free hand to brush back Thor’s ropey hair. “How’re we feeling?”

 

Thor smiles when he sees Bruce. It makes him feel warm and safe knowing he’s been here all this time watching over him.

 

“Better,” he admits.

 

“So, everyone else is thinking of going to play a little ball, wanna’ join?” 

 

“Am... am I invited?” Thor worries, unsure if Bruce isn’t just bringing him along to be kind.

 

“Of course you’re invited! It’s for you, big fella’,” the good doctor informs.

 

“For me?” Thor echoes.

 

“C’mon, let’s go see everyone, they’ll tell you,” Bruce assures with a grin.

 

The team are all waiting in the lounge when the pair arrive, and the minute they see Thor, all faces light up.

 

“Hey, _there_ he is!” Sam cheers. “How you doin’, thunderhead?”

 

“Mr. Thor!” Peter cries, leaping over the back of the couch and launching himself at the thunder god with a fierce hug. 

 

Having finally been informed of what happened, it is safe to say Peter has been the most concerned for his new friend. 

 

“Oof!” Thor grunts as he absorbs the embrace, smiling and patting Peter on the back while his slender arms wrap as far around Thor’s plush waist as possible. “I have missed you too,” he chuckles. 

 

“He’s been worried sick about you,” Scott informs with an affectionate inclination.

 

“We all have,” Rhodey confesses. “I uh... I’m sorry I lost my cool with you back there. You’re a tough guy, Thor, so I know if something’s bad enough to knock you down then... yeah, it’s pretty bad.”

 

Carol nods in agreement, and gives Thor a confident smile. 

 

They all gathered here just for him; _just_ to see that he is alright. No resentment or shame or disappointment for what happened to him out there, just unconditional love and patience.

 

Thor feels tears threatening to form as the tell-tale tingling prickles his waterline.

 

He glances down at Peter then, steadfast as he clings to him, and then at the patient, loving faces of the people around him.

 

“My friends,” he sniffles, quickly drying his eyes.

 

“Hey,” Bruce heartens, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go play some ball, huh?”

 

They decide it’s only right that the two captains get the role of captains, and Sam, gentlemanly as ever, insists Carol get first pick.

 

“Don’t pick Thor, don’t pick Thor,” he mutters under his breath.

 

“Obvious choice, I want the guy with the meanest swing! Thor, get over here,” she grins.

 

“God dammit!” Sam huffs, “I wanted the big guy.”

 

Thor chuckles, whether it’s for show or not he doesn’t care. It’s so nice just to feel wanted. 

 

“Alright I’ll take the other hard-hitter,” Sam smirks. “Romanoff, you’re on my team!”

 

“Aw,” Carol moans, “I wanted an all girls’ team.”

 

“Your first pick was Thor!” Rhodey points out.

 

“He’s an honorary girl,” Carol preens, tucking a stray straggle of his loosely tied back hair behind his ear.

 

Thor purrs at the affection, more than happy to be considered worthy of joining the women’s ranks.

 

“Alright, Hope, that means you’re my next pick,” Carol winks.

 

“Oh we’re doomed,” Scott says under his breath.

 

“Rhodey,” Sam calls.

 

“No way man, I wanna’ be on that team,” he resists. 

 

“C’mon big guy we can take ‘em,” Nat heartens, gripping Rhodey by the shoulders in a somewhat forceful if not _encouraging_ embrace. 

 

“Okay Peter Parker, looks like you’re our guy,” Carol smirks, inviting the teen over.

 

“Ugh, last pick... this is giving me major high school flash backs... and middle school... and elementary school…”

 

“Scotty,” Sam beckons, “come to daddy.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Bruce steps in, having assumed the role of umpire. “I’m drawin’ a line there; you can’t have two borderline gods and the kid that can lift ten tonnes on your team. Peter you’re on Sam’s team.”

 

“Alright, now we’re seeing some justice,” Rhodey cheers, patting Peter on the back as he joins their ranks.

 

“Um... y’know I’m not very good at sports I think I’m gunna’ sit this one out with Bruce,” Scott begins to protest. 

 

“Too late for that kitten, get on over here,” Hope teases.

 

“You’re gunna’ protect me, right?” Scott asks as he tucks himself under her arm.

 

“S’not that kinda’ game, honey,” she informs.

 

After the teams are evenly decided, Bruce happily sits out to take score.

 

Without Pepper, who quite rightly insisted that someone needed to actually stay and run the business, it’d be an odd number if he played. Not to mention probably too much of an unfair advantage for anyone to have him on their team.

 

And truth be told, Bruce just isn’t a fan of competitive sport... or sport in general. 

 

Carol and Sam on the other hand are big fans of both sport and competition, and their trash-talking proves that plenty.

 

“Alright, we haven’t even started yet you two, damn,” the good doctor grumbles. “Coin toss to decide who bats first.”

 

“Heads!” Carol yells. “We pick heads.”

 

Bruce rolls his eyes. No matter how strong or capable or absolutely _terrifying_ , they’re all kids at heart.

 

“Heads: team Marvel bats first, tails: team Cap, here we go... tails! Sam, you’re up.”

 

“Alright, c’mon!” Sam jeers, punching the air and walking backward to the base as he gives Carol the ‘eyes on you’ gesture.

 

She sticks her tongue out at him in response, and Bruce fears for what he has agreed to oversee…

 

 

“Peter that’s a foul. We established, no use of super powers, it’s meant to be a fair game,” Bruce admonishes after only the first hit.

 

“What?! But I’m just getting from base to base! That doesn’t count as a super power!”

 

“You can’t _leap_ from literal base to base, man!” Hope objects.

 

“C’mon kid don’t make us look bad, you see the Yankees doin’ shit like that?” Sam reproves.

 

“No sir,” Peter mumbles his reply.

 

“Alright, let’s go again,” Bruce sighs. He can see this isn’t going to be the simple job of keeping score that he had hoped.

 

They make it through their play with few disputes, but when they switch there’s unrest all over again.

 

One homerun after another from Thor and Carol and that unfair godly advantage has _never_ been more apparent. 

 

“Man this is insane!” Peter cries, out of breath from performing desperate acrobatics to attempt catching _any_ of the dozens of balls they go through. 

 

“Hey, I mean how do we know they aren’t using their powers either?” Rhodey adds in retaliation to Peter being sanctioned earlier.

 

“Believe me, if I was, you would know,” the thunder god confidently reassures. 

 

“Alright I’d believe that,” Rhodey admits. If either Carol or Thor were using their full strength they’d probably have run out of bats by now and the ball would explode on impact each time.

 

“God dammit, stop arguing! Thor you’re out,” Bruce sighs.

 

“What?!” the team comically explode.

 

“That’s not fair; I am excellent at this game!”

 

“You can’t discriminate like that just ‘cuz he’s good!” Carol cries.

 

“Shut up!” Bruce calmly demands, his voice easily louder than all of theirs.

 

“New rule. You all can run, but only _Scott_ can bat.” 

 

Scott audibly gulps when his team flock to him and begin assuring him they can still pull it off if he just hits it far enough.

 

“You’re up Lang,” Bruce announces, sitting down heavily for the third time after solving a dispute.

 

“Guys this is a lotta’ pressure, I’m bad at sports!” Scott complains.

 

“You’re gunna’ do fine, baby,” Hope reassures, outlining his stance as she holds his hands around the bat and guides his swing to demonstrate. “You’re gunna’ do it juuuuust like that, okay? Power from your hips, get a nice clean strike on the ball, got it?”

 

“No,” Scott whimpers pathetically.

 

“Yeah you do, you’ll be great. I believe in you,” she smirks, patting his butt before stepping away to get well clear of his backswing. 

 

It seems that no amount of belief or trust or pixie dust was going to save Scott’s terrible batting though, and after two rounds each, Carol is very gracious about her team losing. 

 

“Man I’m starving now,” Scott grumbles.

 

“Me too,” Peter concurs. “Can we go out for Schwarma?!”

 

“We already had that this week,” Bruce reminds. “I’m feeling like... Tang’s,” he grins. “All-you-can-eat!”

 

“Man how can you be hungry enough for that? You didn’t do nothin’!” Sam teases. 

 

“That’s my secret, Captain,” Bruce simpers. “I’m always hungry.” 

 

“Well, whatever you guys decide on... it’s on Scott, because he lost,” Carol jibes.

 

Scott is about to protest, but then hangs his head glumly. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

 

Carol slings an arm around him then and jerks him from side to side playfully.

 

“I’m just teasing, little guy. You gave it yer best shot and we’re proud’a you. Dinner’s on me, team.” 

 

 

For the two complaining that they were hungry, Peter and Scott really weren’t kidding. They pack away more food individually than Thor and Bruce do combined.

 

“So Thor, is this your first time at an all-you-can-eat?” Hope asks cordially. 

 

Thor nods through a mouthful of soft noodles. 

 

“What’cha’ think, big guy?” Carol continues, lowering udon into her own mouth uncouthly. 

 

“It reminds me of the banquets we had in Asgard on merry occasions like this. I feel very at home,” the god of thunder beams, shovelling fried rice and veg onto his fork. 

 

He couldn’t quite get the hang of chopsticks, and being too hungry to learn he is faithfully reliant on his silverware. 

 

“Jeez will the two of you slow down?” Bruce laughs, noting the resounding lack of conversation or even oxygen intake from the pair opposite him.

 

Where everyone else is chatting between bites, Peter and Scott haven’t once paused for breath. 

 

“Seriously, it’s like feeding time at the zoo,” Rhodey remarks.

 

“Or the insectarium,” Nat supplies. 

 

“Can’t stop! Still hungry!” Peter informs through a mouthful of chicken and rice. 

 

“Yeah, it’s eat as much as you can!” Scott jumps to defend.

 

“It’s eat as much as you _like_!” Hope corrects.

 

“Yeah? Well I _like_ to eat a lot,” the shrinking hero parries. 

 

Concerning food is the only thing Scott has ever been known to sass her on, but Hope can’t help smiling and just shaking her head in fond disbelief. 

 

When everyone is satisfied with full bellies, Carol sneaks off to pay, knowing that the generous bunch will likely insist they all chip in.

 

She wasn’t able to elude everyone though, as Sam; ever-chivalrous, is already beside her with his wallet out.

 

“C’mon, Captain,” he smirks, “just lemme’ be a gentleman here, alright?”

 

Carol smiles, eyebrows hitched as she nods and quietly implies that she approves of his suaveness. 

 

They go halves, and return to the table to find Hope and Nat easing Scott to his feet as his belly has him trapped under the table.

 

Thor is no better off, though unlike Scott, he has the strength in his legs to carry his own weight.

 

Peter, however, looks as if he could eat more; every bit the beanpole he was when he walked in.

 

“I don’t know where that kid puts it,” Rhodey tuts in dismay.

 

Having shared plenty of family-gatherings at Tony’s over Christmas he has seen often enough just how much Peter can eat, but he supposes he was the same as a teenager. 

 

Everyone divides up after that to go back to their respective corners of the county. 

 

Scott and Hope head home. Nat, Sam and Carol continue on for drinks at a bar downtown, and Rhodey heads back to his place, leaving Bruce to get the famous duo home safely.

 

“Hey big guy,” he gently nudges, finding Thor to have fallen asleep in the passenger seat and Peter in the back by the time they pull into the garage. 

 

The thunder god wakes a little disoriented, stretching to the point that his sweatshirt rides up to show off his belly and the seatbelt locks.

 

Bruce chuckles and frees him before going to lift Peter out of the back. He is far too old to be carried to bed, but he has worked his socks off today and expended quite a bit of energy worrying about Thor, too. He’s earned the right to be a kid again this evening. 

 

Like a mother hen, Bruce still checks in on Thor when he goes to bed as well.

 

“You okay?” he smiles softly. “Got your weighted blanket an’ everything?”

 

“Yes... thank you, Banner,” Thor replies.

 

“Alright, good night,” Bruce whispers.

 

“Good night.”

 

Thor tucks himself up snugly then, and all of a sudden the day catches up with him. 

 

Teardrops fall when he closes his eyes; comfortably tired, belly full, and feeling as loved as ever. 

 

Thanks to his friends, what could have been an awful day turned out wonderful, and Thor falls asleep that night wishing only for more happy memories like this. 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cried a lot reading this back so fair warning everyone (´;ω;｀)

 

The two weeks Thor was supposed to spend with The Avengers end up becoming a little longer than that, but hearing in his voice how much happier Thor sounds, Valkyrie is more than supportive of his desire to stay.

 

His good habits are finally starting to stick; meditation, regular grooming, and not a drop of alcohol at all. Though, Peter being under age is a good incentive not to partake.

 

Thor talks with Bruce every single day, a lot about Valkyrie and his feelings for her. Where he hopes to be a year from now and so on, and although Bruce would normally say, ‘I’m not that kind of doctor,’ his patience for Thor is pretty much limitless. He enjoys seeing the Thunder God open up to discuss his worries and his progress.

 

Forcing him out of bed early proves to be one of the more difficult things when Peter returns to school after Spring Break, but once Thor actually finds reason to get up, be it for little tasks Bruce provides him with or simply because of promises he has made to the others, it becomes simple routine.

 

Whenever they have time, all the Avengers make an effort to help him, too.

 

Sam has become a huge influence in terms of addressing triggers and managing his trauma, and taking the Thunder God on occasional, leisurely hikes to watch the sunrise doesn’t take long to become something Thor is keen on doing regularly.

 

He has started going with Peter to the gym, too.

 

He had just been watching at first during his combat lessons with Hope, but soon he wants to join in; taking on the punching bag and doing some lifting under her guidance. Never anything strenuous or intense, but Hope assures him that exercise doesn’t need to be either; it just needs to get his body moving and his brain active.

 

Aside from everyone’s patience and generosity, another thing that means a great deal to Thor is that no one ever makes fun of the times he needs to stop.

 

When he sweats like hell after only light cardio or complains of his dizziness after just a few rounds with the punching bag, never once is he berated for being unfit.

 

On hikes when he needs a break, Sam sits by him while he catches his breath and reassures him he’s making great progress. By his third week, Thor is making it to the top of the hiking trail every time.

 

In training, Hope and Peter cheer for him no matter how early he needs to tap out, and in his most recent session there, he had powered his punches enough to finally _burst_ a bag.

 

When Carol visits she often takes Thor out to spar with. They trek deep in the woods around the compound into a clearing where it’s safe to let loose their incredible power.

 

Such times put Thor in a very nostalgic place.

 

Brawling with a strong warrior reminds him of his days in Asgard before all of this; blissfully unaware of what the future held and how frivolously he and his now-fallen friends used to indulge in playful battle.

 

It’s hard to imagine sometimes that he was ever so carefree about fighting, but it is in fact the words of the Captain that have stuck with him on that matter.

 

While helping him up from the dust after a moment of reminiscence made him vulnerable, Carol had very wisely told Thor the difference between battle and war.

 

‘For many, battle is a sport, but war is not. You were raised to do battle as part of your culture, but no one is raised to fight in wars. Fighting for honour isn’t the same as fighting to survive, and being a warrior is not the same as being a soldier.’

 

It had never occurred to Thor before then that they were different. But while one ends in casualties considered a part of the territory of being a warrior, the other ends in death of innocents; fighters and fleers alike.

 

Admittedly, visits from Carol give him much to think about, but often he finds his conscience somewhat cleared by their talks, and Thor is learning so much from his friends.

 

Eating habits have been the hardest to change of course, but neither Bruce nor Peter are exemplary dieters, so their best effort is a pact to at least incorporate more vegetables into their pizza toppings.

 

Weight loss was never the goal anyway.

 

Just getting Thor to a place where his energy isn’t so low and his body is getting a regular dose of serotonin is good enough.

 

After all, Thor could build his strength just on _mass_ alone. His muscles don’t _need_ to be defined in order for him to rely on them.

 

Despite his good progress, it’s not to say he goes without dips. Crying spells are sometimes unheard of for days, but then on another day he can’t shut the waterworks off.

 

It embarrasses him when he cries during training, but Hope is surprisingly gentle with him, holding him and telling him it’s okay to be frustrated but he’s really coming on leaps and bounds.

 

Sam is more of a silent supporter, usually saying very little when Thor starts to cry at the sunrise, but a hand on his back speaks volumes.

 

A particularly bad day after one of Rhodey’s ‘witticisms’ about his weight hits a little too close to home sets him back quite a bit, but in that same day Carol Danvers just so happens to stop by, and a hug from her makes Thor feel very special indeed. He _does_ have to beg of her not to throw the War Machine into the stratosphere, however.

 

His nightmares are also becoming scarcer, but he is never ashamed to call on Bruce if he has one. Though his blanket, he thinks, must surely be enchanted for just how effective it is in soothing him, and mini Asgard is taking shape quite nicely thanks to Peter’s lend of his console.

 

When the end of his extended stay does near, Thor definitely feels misty-eyed about leaving his new friends, but all he need do is think of his Valkyrie, and he knows that he is ready to go home.

 

On the morning of his departure he reminds himself as he’s heading to breakfast that this is by _no_ means goodbye, anyway. He is a free man now. He can visit his friends whenever he wants and invite them to New Asgard if he wants that too.

 

He stalls for a second when he enters the rec room that morning to see it all blacked out with the shutters down, but the second he takes a cautious step forward, the lights come on and the new Avengers chorus “surprise!”

 

“S-surprise?” Thor parrots, looking around at the decorations and streamers and the _ginormous_ spread from his favourite patisserie.

 

“Thought we’d knock up a little farewell party for ya’, big guy!” Carol enlightens.

 

“We wanted to give you a big send off,” Scott adds.

 

“ _Not_ that you’re going away forever!” Peter implicitly states, “but we wanted to celebrate how far you’ve come!”

 

Thor feels the prickling of tears at the corners of his eyes, but for the first time in a long time, they are tears of joy.

 

“Th-thank you... my friends,” Thor sniffles, breaking down like an overwhelmed little boy and balling his fists into his eyes to try and stop the tears.

 

“Sweetie,” Pepper pouts, using a motherly tone as she rubs his shoulders and ushers him over to his party.

 

“Come on, big guy, you get first pick, whatever you want for breakfast,” Hope encourages.

 

Thor smiles and helps himself to a doughnut first, prompting everyone else to join in and stack their plates with an abundance of confectionaries.

 

He mingles over the course of breakfast, joking and laughing and surrounded by love.

 

Everyone made the time this morning to all be in one place, _just_ for him, and Thor feels like he can finally appreciate it now that he’s closer to the top of the well than ever before.

 

“I know it’s not a gift-giving occasion, by the way,” Carol mentions as she rummages in her pocket during their moment of one-on-one chatter, “but I want you to have this.”

 

Thor examines the tiny device.

 

“It’s a pager, like Fury’s. That’s how he contacts me if he ever needs my help. It’s got the same upgrade as his so… if you need me, you can always reach me.”

 

“Captain,” Thor smiles gratefully, drawing her into a hug. Carol gives wonderful hugs, and Thor will find any excuse to take one, but he might be surprised to know that Carol feels very much the same about him.

 

The party goes on until late morning. Understandably they each have important jobs to do here, but Thor makes sure to get everybody’s phone numbers and emails and whatever other ways they are contactable before he says goodbye.

 

Sam is one of the last ones to return to his post. He has been waiting for the times to line up so he can call Steve and give Thor the opportunity to catch up.

 

It is a shock to see the scrawny little soldier when he appears on the screen.

 

Thor had almost forgotten about his depletion of the serum, but it fills him with joy to get the chance to speak with him about his travels and his new projects and to know that he is finally living his life with the same liberties a newly retired soldier should be.

 

“Where are you now, big guy?” Sam asks.

 

“Uh, still in Singapore. Think we’re gunna’ head toward Borneo next, just—what?” the tiny soldier asks to an off-screen murmur. “Yes Sam’s here, come and t—no come an’ tell him yourself.”

 

“What’s the matter?” Sam frowns with a suspicious smirk.

 

Steve sighs and relays the message, “Bucky says hi.”

 

“Oh, c’mon now don’t tell me he’s camera shy! I heard he’s a real tech whiz these days what with the Snapchats and the emojis,” Sam teases.

 

“As am I!” Thor delightedly informs.

 

“I am good at the Snapchats,” Bucky can be heard mumbling.

 

“What?!” Steve hisses, “Buck, come an’ talk to ‘em yourself!”

 

“C’mon, Winter Wimp, show us your pretty face,” Sam encourages loudly.

 

“He’s gone back to bed,” Steve huffs. “I swear when it’s just us I can’t get the guy to shut up.”

 

Thor and Sam both chuckle.

 

“But Thor, gimme’ a heads up in advance next time, don’t let me miss ya’, okay?” Steve grins.

 

“You have my word!” Thor beams.

 

“Hey it’s okay Buck, I’ve signed off now,” Steve fibs, inviting the Winter Soldier to snuggle himself up under an arm.

 

Thor and Sam hold their breath like they’re amidst filming a wildlife documentary, keen to at least say hello to Bucky in person before they go.

But the second Bucky’s muss of brown hair appears and Steve tilts the camera, Sam can’t hold his laughter.

 

“Hey sleepin’ beauty!”

 

“I hate you!” Bucky huffs when he realises he’s been fooled, smothering the tablet with a pillow.

 

“Careful, Buck!” Steve warns with a laugh as the image goes blurry for a second. “Ah, he’s in a mood now, doesn’t like been seen before he’s got himself all dolled up for the day,” he plewds, “I’d better get packed and get this guy some breakfast. Catch you later fellas.”

 

“Ah, he looks well,” Thor says with a content sigh.

 

“If by well you mean alive?” Sam smirks, hitching an eyebrow.

 

“Yes, no... he looks minuscule,” Thor confesses in a blanch tone. “Why, even Peter here could fight him!”

 

“I did fight him!” Peter informs. “I told him I was from Queens and he dropped an airplane on me.”

 

“Damn,” Bruce cusses upon opening the near empty fridge. “I forgot to get milk.”

 

“Oh, that’s on you errand boy,” Sam says, ducking out.

 

“Me? No way I gotta’ get to class, Pepper only wrote me a cover note good for this morning!” Peter protests. “I’ll see ya’ after school, don’t leave without a proper goodbye!”

 

“Learn much, young one!”

 

“Thor,” Bruce shrugs helplessly, “would you mind?”

 

“Ah... I-I-I am not so sure, Banner,” the Thunder God cringes at the prospect. “Going out in public… will the people of Midgard still... what if they do not find me likeable anymore? Will they still want to take pictures with me?”

 

“…Thor, I don’t know how to tell ya’ this but I’m not asking you to go and take pictures with strangers. I need almond milk. _Please_?” the patient giant implores.

 

He sees that Thor isn’t convinced, however, and tries to see it from his perspective.

 

For Thor, an assurance of his value and likeability is still in some part measured by the way the people of Earth approach him.

 

Anyone who should accompany Thor anywhere used to be unable to go without the demi-god posing for pictures with fans.

 

He’s come far, but the one thing they haven’t practised is being out in public, and it’s understandable that Thor is nervous about being subjected to the eyes of people who aren’t necessarily his loving friends.

 

According to Valkyrie, by Asgardian standards, full beards and full bellies are the truest symbol of Nordic power and virility. But Bruce supposes that for Thor, who’s come to abide Earthly beauty standards, perhaps doesn’t consider his body acceptable to what people here would find attractive.  

 

He’s wrong, of course.

 

“Think of it as a final test to work on your confidence,” Bruce suggest, reminding him of his affirmations as he sees him to the door. Thor concedes, but once outside keeps his head down, muttering about how he’s still worthy and loveable.

 

 

Within the first second of landing in inner-Rochester his attention is captured.

 

“Woah! Are you like, a real Viking, dude? You’re huge! Can we take a picture?”

 

A group of boys on their skateboards humbly surround the Thunder God awaiting his response, and Thor forces back tears of joy yet again as he replies, “of course!”

 

They all bunch together to get in the shot, and Thor throws up a peace sign as he’s commonly come to do under Peter’s influence.

 

“We have the same phone,” Thor points out cordially as the boy thanks him for his time.

 

“That’s tight, bro,” the curly haired teen remarks, offering Thor a fist bump. “Thanks Viking dude!” he calls as he and his entourage then skate away.

 

“Heh, that is tight bro,” Thor mimics to himself with a smile, taking a fancy to the saying.

 

He barely makes it a block without being stopped and complimented. Even the people who daren’t talk to such a hulking man aren’t able to avoid staring at him in awe.

 

Women and men alike will lower their sunglasses to wink and smile at him, babies stop crying just to look at his teddy-bear face—and Thor always smiles back, which sends their parent into a fluster—there are old people who chuckle and nod like they know him, and as always, young girls who would recognise him _anywhere_ , flocking to him for selfies.

 

It had been a real boost of morale to know that he was still worthy enough to wield Mjölnir, but truth be told, to know that he is still loved on Earth is a pretty unbeatable feeling too. He daresay he’s getting even more attention now than ever before.

 

The Midgardians still love him, his friends and family still love him too. All that’s left is for him to love himself the same.

 

He must have taken over a hundred pictures with folks around town in the mere hour he’s been out, but the Thunder God did not forget his mission. Well, he almost did. But he returns victorious nevertheless, arms laden with both confidence and almond milk.

 

“Thor! You’re back! All I asked for was milk, what took you so long?”

 

“Apologies, Banner,” the grinning god replies, setting two cartons down on the counter. “What can I say? The people just love me.”

 

Bruce smiles, seeing such a glow coming off Thor. He can’t possibly begrudge him now. Even if he _was_ due for a coffee break over an hour ago.   

 

By the end of the day Thor has packed up all his belongings. Sam stops by again to give him an early farewell and his phone number, too.

 

“You’re always a part of this team, big fella’. An’ if you ever need help I want ya' to call me or drop a text or whatever,” the new Captain insists, giving Thor’s shoulder a squeeze. “You matter. To all of us. Don’t forget that, alright?”

 

Thor nods and goes against his better instincts not to draw Sam into a big bear hug.

 

“Thank you for all of your support, Captain. There is truly no one more suited to this mantle than you.”

 

Sam abides the hug until he feels Thor getting sniffly.

 

“Alright, alright, c’mon now,” he affectionately chastises, pulling away but not completely disconnecting his touch on Thor’s shoulder.

 

Thor chuckles, glimpsing at Mjölnir on top of his suitcase.

 

“Would you... would you care to try?” he offers.

 

Sam catches on after a brief moment of confusion, and bites his lip in thought.

 

“... Nah,” he responsibly declines. “I think the weight of Steve’s—the weight of _my_ shield is enough for me to lift right now.”

 

Thor nods, accepting Sam’s noble refusal and offering his hand to shake instead.

 

He glances at his hammer as the other man goes to meet his gesture, his palm extended in her direction.

 

“I’ll see ya’ round, Thunderhead,” Sam smirks.

 

Thor watches him to the end of the hall, but calls after him with a footstep to spare.

 

“Captain?”

 

Sam turns.

 

“Catch.”

 

“Woah, hey!” Sam cries in horror as Mjölnir comes hurtling toward him and he instinctively reaches out to protect his face.

 

He hears Thor chuckle before he stops flinching, and realises that there was no sound of a heavy weapon hitting the floor.

 

“Apologies,” Thor beams, “I did not wish to disrespect your refusal. Your humbleness is admirable, but I had to be sure... and it is as I thought,” he says with a shake of his finger. “You are more than worthy, Sam Wilson.”

 

Sam just huffs in disbelief, but that cool smile doesn’t leave his face, and he bounces Mjölnir in his hand just once before throwing it right back.

 

“That goes for you too, Thunderhead,” he reminds. “Don’t you go doubting it no more.”

 

The sun is setting by the time Thor has sufficiently said his farewells to everyone.

 

Everyone except for Peter, of course, who came all the way to the airstrip to see him off.

 

“Ah, I almost forgot,” Thor says a little heavily as he rummages in his duffel for something. “You’ll be needing this back. I cannot thank you enough for letting me have lend of it, truly it has been an enormous hel—”

 

“Keep it,” Peter interjects, pushing Thor’s hand back as he attempts to return the console. “I want you to have it. I-I can even get you more games for it! S-so keep it. I want you to,” he smiles.

 

Thor’s face looks shadowed, his heart heavy now as he prepares to say goodbye to the boy who has been the most incredible companion to him.

 

He pulls Peter in for a hug, both of them getting teary.

 

“You are amazing, Spider-Man,” he utters with such sincerity as Peter begins to sob into his big, plush, sweatered chest.

 

“I love you,” Peter sobs; muffled by their embrace but not unheard.

 

“I love you,” Thor says back, voice firm out of forced-steadiness as he rests his cheek on the top of the young hero’s head, holding him for a long moment as tightly as the lithe little arms wrap around his waist in return.

 

“Alright, come on you two, get a grip, he’ll probably be back next week,” Happy intervenes when the pair show no sign of splitting.

 

Subtle as always in his affection for the teen, he is kind enough to offer Peter his handkerchief to blow his nose into, and even retrieves a spare for Thor.

 

They gather themselves, Peter frowning and clearing his throat to seem totally fine; Thor by this point uncaring for others to see him cry.

 

“Here, sweetie,” Pepper finally says as she sees her chance to step forward, holding a box in her upturned palms. “Scott made some more adjustments. You don’t ever have to put it on, but we wanted you to have it,” she expounds.

 

Thor knows what’s inside, and this time he doesn’t decline. Accepting it as a gift, he can do _most_ graciously, and gives the prim woman a hug as well.

 

He takes one last look over the grounds and sniffles, catching his nose with his forefinger and nodding. 

 

“I look forward to seeing you all again very soon,” he smiles as he steps into the Quinjet.

 

“Maybe I can come and stay with you! I’ve always wanted to go to Norway! Well... not really... b-but I do now knowing you’re there!” Peter shouts up to him over the whirring engines.

 

“I would like that!” Thor replies, waving from the hanger as they start to lift off.

 

Once New York gets smaller and smaller beneath them, Thor takes a seat next to Bruce and closes his eyes. Even at this speed they’ve got some distance to cover, and he’s excited to go home.

 


	10. Chapter 10

It’s in the early hours of the morning when they land.

 

Bruce makes sure to set them down high up on the knoll so as not to wake the townsfolk.

 

“Are you certain I cannot convince you to stay? It does not sit well with me to think of you travelling all that distance back in the same day,” Thor divulges.

 

Bruce shakes his head, patting Thor appreciatively on the shoulder.

 

“Autopilot,” he reassures. “Besides, up in the air I’ve got nothing to do but sleep; should make a nice change from dozing off in the lab all the time.”

 

Thor chuckles softly, keeping his voice low.

 

“Ah... I shall miss finding you like that in mornings,” the Thunder God reflects.

 

“We’ll see each other again soon, big guy. Real soon,” Bruce promises, catching him before he gets misty-eyed once more. “You’re welcome anytime.”

 

“As are you, my friend,” Thor returns the sentiment, holding onto Bruce’s arm as the good doctor knocks his cheek affectionately.

 

Thor stays to watch him take off, but sits for a few moments on the clifftop under the stars, listening to the waves crashing against the crag below.

 

He feels small; humbled, but unbelievably peaceful.

 

He thinks of Valkyrie then, grinning uncontrollably as butterflies swarm in his belly and his heart flutters. He has missed her fiercely, and the thought of getting to once more sleep beside her has him running full pelt down the heath-side.

 

He stumbles a few times but does not fall, and arrives at their door to find it unlocked.

 

“My queen,” he whispers as he enters, seeing only the light on by the porch to welcome him home. “Hilde,” he tries again, taking off his boots and treading up the stairs earning a protest from each creaking step.

 

He can see the bedside lamp on when he pushes the door to and slips in. She must have been trying to stay awake by reading, as he spots the open book still in her hand.

 

‘Loving Someone With Anxiety’ the title reads, and Thor’s heart aches to think that all this time she has still been thinking of how to help him.  

 

He takes the book from her relaxed grasp and sets it aside before getting into bed with her.

 

“I am home, my love,” he purrs, pulling her closer to him and kissing her cheek.

 

She stirs, smiling before even opening her eyes and wrapping her arms around his thick neck.

 

“I’ve missed you, teddy bear,” she murmurs dreamily, cradling his head and cherishing him even in sleep.

 

They say little else, both are tired, and both can sleep comfortably now they are reunited.

 

 

Drained from the long journey home and the emotions of yesterday, Thor does sleep in a little late the next morning, but he’s pleasantly awoken by the smell of bacon cooking.

 

He slumps downstairs in his dressing gown, still beddy with his hair mussed and his slippers audibly scuffing over the flagstone as he shuffles toward Valkyrie at the stove.

 

“Good morning, handsome. Did you sleep well?” she purrs.

 

Thor doesn’t answer; just holds her from behind, swamping her with his big arms and soft body as he begins kissing her neck and making deep, satisfied rumbling sounds in his chest with each one.

 

“Thor,” Valkyrie chuckles. “You smell dreadful.”

 

“Yes I would imagine so,” he agrees with a smug smile, not desisting in the slightest.

 

“Go on, sit down,” she encourages, plating up his breakfast.

 

He plants himself heavily, getting an unappreciative squeak out of the tired chair.

 

“Ah, I’ve missed your cooking,” he groans, taking a moment to inhale the salty scent of grease and smoked meats.

 

Valkyrie sets his breakfast down and takes a seat opposite him with her coffee. She wouldn’t exactly call herself a master chef, but it’s sweet that he appreciates her attempts at domesticity.

 

“I have to go out today,” she breaks the news guiltily, “but it’s just for a few hours and then I’m all yours, I want to hear all about what you’ve been up to!”

 

Thor, chewing happily, shakes his head and reassures her with a smile that he doesn’t mind.

 

“I’ve... talked with my council and they agree that I should start taking time off to be with you. I’ve also talked with Korg. Violent games are banned, beer is banned... god I sound like a mother,” she despairs, making a dreary face.

 

Thor laughs but reassures her once more with a shake of his head as he dabs his mouth with a napkin.

 

“I appreciate how well you take care of me. You know I... I appreciate everything you do for me, and I want you to know that I am much better now. I can do so much better...”

 

“Love,” she says with a brief frown, reaching across the table to hold his hand.

 

“Thank you for protecting me, f-for talking to my friends and... explaining to them—I suppose that is what mothers do, isn’t it?” he considers.

 

Valkyrie rolls her eyes and breaks the touch, “or something _else_ ,” she suggests implicitly.

 

Thor laughs, getting butterflies again at the insinuation.

 

He loves being able to tell people that his heart belongs to her.

 

“Well, why don’t you spend some time with Korg? I’ll be home all afternoon so meet me back here whenever you’re done and we can do whatever you feel like doing,” she suggests.

 

Thor nods eagerly and gets up; thanking her with a kiss as he decides his first move should be to freshen up.

 

After unpacking his belongings and getting distracted until well into late morning, he’s eventually hurrying up the familiar path to his old house, a six-pack of soda and a Tupperware under his arm.

 

It feels like such a long time since he last was here, and he truly has missed his friends in New Asgard.

 

“Korg! I’m back, I have brought us—oh!” Thor beams as he bursts through the door and is immediately ambushed by something.

 

“Hello!” he cheers, setting aside his cans of Appletiser and homemade guac to fuss the creature.

 

“Hey, Thor! Was wondering when you were going to grace us with your presence,” Korg greets him, coming in from the kitchen. “I was just cleaning. You bein’ on your detox inspired me to tidy up the place,” he informs.

 

“Who is _this_?!” Thor cries, taking to one knee to get even closer to receive the animal’s affection.

 

“You never seen a dog before?” Korg teases. “Yeah got her a coupl’a days ago. Was keepin’ her here until you got back from your trip to Earth. Yeah-nah she’s yours, man,” the Kronan offhandedly announces.

 

Thor stops petting and looks up at his friend, stunned out of words.

 

“Her name’s Chess. Got her from the rescue place, said she’s very friendly, as you can see. Thought she could be like, your therapy dog or something.”

 

Korg is starting to look a little anxious now as he rubs the back of his neck, unsure if Thor is taking this well or not.

 

Miek makes a startled sound when the Thunder God lets out a sob and continues petting her.

 

“You got me dog?!” he hiccups, making a less than handsome face as he cries almost comically.

 

“Aw, what’s the matter man? Don’chu like her?” Korg asks.

 

“I _love_ her!” Thor wails, embracing the pretty retriever as she frantically licks the tears off his face and whimpers, wagging her tail and doing her best to comfort her new owner. “We are going to be best friends, Chess,” he assures.

 

“Woah, hey, I mean I got her to help you, man, but she’s gotta’ go if she thinks she’s taking my spot as best friend!” Korg objects, earning a sound of agreement from Miek.

 

Thor gets to his feet, gathering himself with a smile as he pats Korg on the shoulder. “You cannot be replaced, my friend,” he reassures, moving onto a very enthusiastic hug.

 

Korg laughs in a way that could be considered bashful if only he was the type to get embarrassed, but he is genuinely glad to have finally been able to help Thor.

 

He sniffles and catches the tip of his nose with his index finger as they break the hug, but Thor doesn’t call attention to the obviously unwelcome emotion.

 

“Well anyway she’s yours now so take good care of her! If the missus doesn’t like her she can live here and you can come see her, hey?” he jokes.

 

“Of course, my friend,” Thor assures. “Thank you,” he says again, going for another brief hug.

 

“Yeah, yeah, alright, get outta’ here anyway I’m tryna’ tidy up the place can’t ya’ see?” Korg jokes again, shooing the Thunder God to the door. “Gotta’ shift all this mess you left behind!”

 

Thor chuckles, “I would offer to help but uh, I no longer drink so those beer bottles cannot be mine,” he parries, feigning an apologetic look.

 

“Oh yeah,” Korg plays along. “My friend the tea drinker, ain’t that right?” he says loudly for the whole countryside to hear. “Anyway, keep it real, I’ll see you round.”

 

“Yes, stay—stay tight bro,” Thor grins, attempting to use the new phrase and finger gunning his friend.

 

Chess barks from halfway down the garden path then, urging her owner to keep up, and Thor laughs as he bounds after her, turning back to wave once they’re at the end of the track.

 

“Hilde! Hilde!” Thor cries, assuming her to be home by now as he bustles in through the front door, letting Chess go first.

 

“Hi, girl,” Valkyrie greets the dog as she takes a much calmer approach and reverently goes to say hello to her new mother.

 

“Hilde, you’ll never guess—look what Korg—” Thor stops and smiles at the sight of Chess sat patiently by Valkyrie’s side as she stirs a pot on the hob.

 

“I’ll never guess?” Valkyrie parrots, making an obvious expression.

 

Thor realises that wasn’t the right choice of words. She doesn’t exactly _have_ to guess when the dog practically introduced herself before he did.

 

“What do you think?” he asks, a little out of breath from running the whole way home. “Can... can we keep her?”

 

“Hm?” Valkyrie responds between tasting the broth, “what do you mean, darling? She’s yours.”

 

“Wait,” Thor frowns, mouth still quirked a little.

 

“You didn’t seriously think I knew nothing about this? I went with Korg to get her, she’s been living _here_ all the time you were away and only stayed at his last night so it wouldn’t spoil the surprise,” she grins.

 

Thor stares in disbelief, eyes full of love for his queen. “Korg said—”

 

“Oh it _was_ his idea,” Valkyrie quickly affirms. “Think he knew better than to go ahead without running it past me, though,” she winks.

 

Thor just grins and lumbers over to hug her, lifting her off the ground as they kiss.

 

Valkyrie smiles down at him, holding his sweet smiling face between her hands before kissing him again.

 

“Go feed your dog,” she advises.

 

“Chess! Chess, do you want some dinner? Do you want your dinner, Chess?” Thor excites, earning a gruff bark and a tail wag from the golden beast.

 

“In the fridge for her,” Valkyrie directs, warmed by the joy in Thor’s voice.

 

“And what are we having for dinner?” he asks, nosing over her shoulder as he rests his chin there and looks curiously into the pot.

 

“ _We_ , are having Fårikål.”

 

Thor makes an approving sound deep in his chest as he kisses her on the cheek and then hurries to fill a bowl for Chess.

 

“Is there anything I can do?” he then asks, eager to help.

 

“You can cut some potatoes and then set the table if you’d like?”

 

Valkyrie is by no means an expert chef. She’s never been a particularly domestic person in any way for that matter. In fact she suspects that might be more _Thor’s_ calling than hers.

 

She looks over to see him washing his hands and begin chopping spuds, and is hit with the feeling of how much she adores him.

 

Being apart from him, while not unbearable, certainly left a sense of longing in her heart, and it’s wonderful to have him back.

 

They cook together and eat on their knees in front of the television in the end, with Chess happily asleep by the hearth.

 

So content and happy to be reunited, the pair do not notice the time.

 

Thor is currently sat on the floor using the couch cushions to separate him from the flagstone; head reclined in Valkyrie’s lap as she massages his scalp, freeing the roots of the tension from being braided all day.

 

He sets down his finished bowl of ice-cream and sighs; incandescent.

 

“I fear I may have to retire to bed,” he announces, reaching for her hand behind him and bringing it over his shoulder to kiss. “Will you join me?”

 

Valkyrie leans down to nuzzle behind his ear and affectionate him. “Do you want carrying, your majesty?” she teases.

 

Thor chuckles. “You have energy to spare, do you?”

 

“Always.” She gathers his hair to one side then and drapes her arms over his shoulders, mouthing his neck. “But not if you aren’t feeling it,” she firmly reminds.

 

He answers her with a kiss, turning to meet her lips and carefully getting onto the couch with her, shedding clothing as he does.

 

Valkyrie cannot help but go to his big belly to smooch as he kneels up in front of her.

 

“God, I’ve missed this,” Valkyrie huffs.

 

They both go to the waistband of his sweatpants then, but Valkyrie bats his fumbling hands away and swiftly frees him of those _and_ his underwear in a few clean tugs.

 

The elastic has left red grooves in his skin, and she tuts disapprovingly at the thought of his beautiful body being uncomfortably restricted by his clothes.

 

Thor’s chubby cock bobs when she turns him onto his back and begins kissing his belly again, her hands smoothing over the fine golden hairs that run out under his navel and continue just above it.

 

”Ah,” he whimpers when she gets to his cock, taking him in hand at the hilt and rolling back his foreskin to strum his frenulum with her tongue. “Oh’wh~” he trills again, sensitive to the attention and widening his legs as he shuffles down further onto his back.

 

Valkyrie lifts his calves onto her shoulders one at a time then, making eye contact as she closes her lips around his head and pulls with her tongue like she’s drinking from a straw.

 

Thor grunts up at the ceiling, head reclined as his body sinks into the act.

 

He feels her hands at his inner-thighs next, her thumbs gently rubbing the soft laddered skin where his newest stretch-marks are still a pale violet colour.

 

“Sweet boy,” she croons, admiring of the changes in his body. She couldn’t possibly love him more.

 

“Ah, wait!” Thor whimpers when a fingertip circles his asshole, “I haven’t—”

 

“It’s okay, it doesn’t matter,” she hushes, wetting her finger and gently pushing against the pucker.

 

Thor heaves softly as he relaxes himself for her, giving a low groan when her finger is sliding through his canal and tantalising his prostate while he takes himself at the hilt and holds his cock steady for her to suck.

 

“Oh! I’m not g—I’m not going to last, Hilde~” he whines when her tongue starts striking his frenum at the exact same time she rubs his prostate.

 

She means to say, ‘that’s alright,’ but the vibrations of her voice send such a tremor along his shaft that the God of Thunder loses his composure right then and gives a heaving-cry as he cums.

 

Valkyrie smirks and wipes her mouth on the back of her wrist as she pulls off, watching him pant for a few moments.

 

“Please,” he huffs, having almost caught his breathe. “Please... let me...”

 

She knows what he wants, and she supposes it’s only fair. Just for tonight, anyway.

 

“Alright,” she smirks, getting off him to undress.

 

Thor, though still a little prone by his orgasm, watches her; mesmerised.

 

He lifts a limp hand as if to reach for her, desperate to touch.

 

She allows him to once she straddles him.

 

They kiss; his skin tingling as his fingertips run over her smooth shoulders, all the way down her arms.

 

He’s missed the feel of her, and it is him who moans when he reaches the meeting of her thighs.

 

“Is that what you wanted?” Valkyrie purrs, seeing the pleasure on his face at the prospect of giving _her_ pleasure.

 

He nods with a deep groan as he fingers her gently as if it was something much more sensitive entering her. In return she continues to stroke his spent cock back to life, and she enjoys listening to him murmur.

 

Thor is used to lovers who make a scene; who grip and whine and throw their heads back in ecstasy at the slightest provocation to this region.

 

Valkyrie isn’t like that. He wonders if she’s just experienced—that certainly must be part of it—but he wonders also, if perhaps his past flings had been playing it up for his enjoyment _just_ a little.

 

Regardless, he _knows_ he’s not bad at this. He gives as fervently as he likes to receive, and he’s not shy about it.

 

His hand joins her as he begins to stroke himself, turning his hips away to allow for him to get good, fast tugs as his cockhead begins to turn purple and leak with prespend a second time.

 

There’s something so exciting for him about touching himself and her at the same time; like he has control over both their pleasure.

 

He should have known better than to get greedy though.

 

“Ah-ah,” Valkyrie reprimands. “Focus on what you started.”

 

She’s not even out of breath; no tell-tale whimpers that she’s reaching a climax. But Thor can tell if she’s enjoying it by the way she taunts him, and _he_ enjoys it greatly.

 

“Y-yes, your majesty,” he pants, using both hands to pull her closer by her hips and sucking on the fingers that had been inside her, savouring the taste of her.

  
“Tsh, you’re a brute, aren’t you?” Valkyrie jibes.

 

Thor, eager fool that he is, nods immediately, and returns to touching her, doing it several more times.

 

“Thor,” she berates with a roll of her eyes.

 

“Please… I want to taste you… it’s not enough,” he whimpers.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Hilde, please,” Thor whines, completely forsaking his own pleasure now as he removes her hand from his cock and holds her wrists together.

 

“ _Thor!_ ” Valkyrie grins.

 

Normally she wouldn’t condone, but his boldness is a sign of his confidence, and she supposes, just for tonight and if it means his self-esteem will be well nourished for it, she will acquiesce.

 

“Alright, you win,” she croons, her body on top of his and his big belly supporting her as she leans down to kiss him deeply.

 

Thor groans as she breaks away and tugs on his bottom lip, holding it between her teeth.

 

“Ready?” she smirks, letting go.

 

Thor nods his head fervently, completely ignorant to his straining erection between her thighs when faced with the promise of having his face between them instead.

 

He supports her with all his strength, practically lifting her onto his chin.

 

She tries to resist lowering herself immediately for the sake of torturing him, but Thor isn’t having it, and for the first time he really exerts his strength by pulling her right down.

 

“Thor, geez,” she laughs, taking up a fistful of hair as he immediately begins eating her out.

 

Her eyelids flutter and her brow furrows; it’s been a while, but even still, he’s really not holding back.

 

“Fuck,” she huffs, testing how much she can deter him as she attempts to pull his head to the side.

 

Thor just moans at the roughness, eyes closed as he concentrates on worshipping his queen.

 

“Fuck! Okay, _okay_ ,” Valkyrie hisses. “Thor, I get it,” she laughs, lifting her hips clear of him only to have him grip her waist harder and pull her back down.

 

“ _Thor!_ ” she admonishes, surprised and admittedly kind of aroused by his commitment to this.

 

“No, don’t,” he grumbles at her resistance, sounding intoxicated. “Let me finish… I want to make you cum.”

 

“That’s too bad, because your turn is up,” she grins seductively.

 

Though desperate, Thor would never disobey her wishes, and he can tell when she is getting uncomfortable from his affection, so he does not prevent her this time as she lifts herself off and edges back to his hips.

 

“Your beard’s wet,” she remarks, “such a messy eater.”

 

Thor moans softly, eyes heavily-lidded as he does nothing to remedy that observation.

 

“I apologise for my bad manners, your majesty,” he utters reverently.

 

Valkyrie sinks down on his thick cock then, holding the slight gasp in her chest so she can hear the gorgeous sounds he makes as her warm body envelops him.

 

He licks his lips and tries to thrust upward, but Valkyrie slams his hips right back down with the strength of her own, keeping him there as _she_ decides the pace.

 

“Can you last?” she asks him, voice stern as she rides him agonisingly slow.

 

Thor grunts; the strain of holding off yet another orgasm bubbling out of his taut lips, but he nods nonetheless. His refusal to fail her _far_ outweighs his physical urges.

 

She begins rubbing his belly when she takes a deeper seat and rolls her hips back and forth, milking him right at the base and drawing breathy moans out of him that warn her she’s tempting him _too_ dangerously.

 

“Good boy, you’re being so patient,” she tells him, grinning wickedly as she circles his belly button.

 

He cries out; a garbled persuasion of a growl as he thumps his head twice against the couch and grits his teeth in desperation.

 

“Hilde!” he warns— _pleads_ —when she teases him so.

 

She  giggles, wickedly amused,  but doesn’t relent. She is close enough to cumming herself now to play with his resolve, so dips her ring finger into the deep little divot of his naval.

 

“Ahhh~ I can’t!” he cries, gripping her hips fiercely and holding her hard against him, anchoring her hard body to his as he stutters and yells and cums inside her.

 

She gasps as his brutishness has a knock-on effect and she climaxes too, but that’s all the sound she expends.

 

She’s too preoccupied with the _sight_ of him, smirking as she gets to watch his brain short-circuit and leave him panting and groaning in bliss.

 

“Ah… ahhh… Hilde,” he pants, grunting when she lifts herself free of him and his limp cock slaps against his heaving belly.

 

“I’ll be right back,” she promises, not even a waver in her stride as she saunters to the downstairs bathroom to clean up and returns with a towel.

 

She rubs him down lovingly, wiping the sweat off his brow and chest and kissing each place.

 

He sighs, reaching for her. “Let us just lay.”

 

He pulls her on top of him then, his big belly acting as a pillow again for her as she laughs and touches noses with him.

 

Of all the things he loves, holding her and being held in return is the only thing his heart truly yearns for. They could never have sex again and he wouldn’t have a care so long as he could still lie like this; warm and close and madly in love.

 

They chat long into the night, drawings patterns on each other’s bodies as they gaze at one another, full of adoration.

 

Thor pulls the comforter over them then, and they fall asleep right there on the tiny couch, reunited as their little family rests peacefully through the whole night.


	11. Chapter 11

 

In the coming weeks, Thor enthrals himself in the community and getting back into old Asgardian traditions; building his strength by log-pulling and lumbering, hunting out in the woods and joining the fishermen to bring in a catch every now and then, too.

 

He shows no further interest in being king, but to be amongst his people and knowing he is helping without the glorious burden of kingship feels far more comfortable for him.

 

Not to mention, there could not be a better ruler than his Valkyrie, and he is _proud_ to defer to his queen.

 

All in all, Thor is conquering his personal battles with growing ease, and he maintains that steady progress for several weeks after his return; keeping in contact with his friends in New York faithfully and balancing his ambitions thoughtfully.

 

Which is why, his disappearance comes as such a shock.

 

The whole town is out searching for him even before Valkyrie catches wind of the situation, and once she does there are search parties all over the docks, the village, and the surrounding woodland.

 

“Korg are you certain he didn’t say anything about... wanting to run away or... returning to New York or... _anything_?” Valkyrie despairs.

 

“I swear! He was happy as a clam yesterday! Didn’t say a word about going off,” the Kronan replies with equal worry for his friend.

 

For the whole afternoon then, the entire town’s labour grounds to a halt as the Asgardians put every effort into locating the missing demi-god, but soon it begins to grow dark, and out of responsibility Valkyrie calls off the search parties, promising the concerned people that she will continue looking alone.

 

“I don’t understand...” she sighs, making her way to the stables to retrieve Skeidbrimir so that she can search from the skies.

 

“I’ll keep looking, too,” Korg assures. “Hey, it’s Chess!” he yells not a moment before setting off as the retriever comes bounding down the hillside toward them.

 

“Were you with Thor, girl?” Valkyrie asks the dog, “where is he? Take me there,” she demands, mounting her steed without bothering to tack up and setting off at full gallop after the golden lightning bolt as she charts them back up the knoll.

 

“I’ll uh, just chill here then, guess you’ve got this!” Korg waves, relieved as he takes Miek under his arm and hefts him home.

 

 

 

 

The beacon on the cliff-top gives a slight illumination to the man sat on the bench beneath it. The stars above are as clear as can be, making the sky look like a still cloak over the Earth, dappled with shimmering silver.

 

It’s a warm night with a breeze carrying forth the hinted arrival of summer, and on the very horizon the Northern Lights dance like a visible ribbon of flowing time.

 

“Thor,” Valkyrie pants, breathless from the hard ride as she dismounts and approaches. “Love,” she sighs with relief, hugging him from behind. “Are you okay?”

 

He kisses her hands as they cross over his chest, feeling her pounding heart against his back.

 

“I just came up here to think for a while and look at the stars,” he reassures.

 

He is quiet for a moment before he continues, just taking time to gather his thoughts.

 

“This is the place my father said his goodbyes to me and my brother... and where I have said many goodbyes to people since...”

 

“Oh, Thor,” Valkyrie sympathises, coming round to sit beside him.

 

“I like it here. It’s peaceful...” he confesses.

 

The patient warrior smiles as she tucks his hair behind his ear and gives his nape an affectionate squeeze, relieved to know he’s alright.

 

“I um... I was thinking of my mother, actually,” he continues, pinching his nose briefly to deter any tears. “When I uh... when I went back, and I got to see her, we had the chance to talk, you see...”

 

Valkyrie just nods, listening quietly and rubbing gently between his shoulder blades.

 

“I told her I was from the future,” he admits, almost in disbelief of himself. “Well, no, she knew... she knew I was...”

 

“I’m glad you were able to see her, Thor,” Valkyrie says softly, sincere and encouraging.

 

“I am, too,” he agrees with a watery smile, looking at her now. “I told her, um... I told her that there was — that there _is_ someone in the future that I hope to marry... I told her that... I was sad that she wouldn’t be there to see it...”

 

It’s clearly getting difficult for him, but Valkyrie listens patiently, just soothing him with her touch as he presses on.

 

“So she gave me this,” he chirps, tears running quietly down his cheeks now as he produces his mother’s wedding ring. “She said... to remember our talk... and that she loves me, and Loki.”

 

He hiccups there, thinking of his deceased brother.

 

“Oh, love,” Valkyrie soothes, putting her arm around him and resting her head on his shoulder.

 

Thor gathers himself, sniffling as his smile turns happily nostalgic again.

 

“But she told me... she told me to take this to remember... and to know that she approves... s-so,” he concludes with a tremulous inhale, drying his eyes to look somewhat presentable before getting down on one knee.

 

“Would you... Brunnhilde, take me as your husband?” he asks, holding out the ring to her. “It seems I... I’m never going to stop crying,” he hiccups, smiling through the tears. “I had wanted to wait until I am better — until I am worthy — I apologise, but I am too in love with you to wait any long—”

 

Valkyrie stops him right there, interrupting with a kiss and cupping his face between both hands, breaking only for air before touching foreheads with him.

 

“Thor, you do _not_ need to apologise for what you’ve been through. I have loved you at every stage of your life since I met you. I would have married you at any point! You have _always_ been worthy,” she asserts. “So… yes… I will be glad to take you as my husband.”

 

The thunder god’s eyes crease at the corners with joy, tears escaping in abundance as he laughs and hugs her tight to his chest as he stands.

 

Valkyrie has nothing else to say. His joy is hers, and she laughs as he spins with her in his arms.

 

“Oh, wait!” he cries, realising he hasn’t yet put the ring on her finger.

 

It slides on perfectly, and suits her like it was forged in her name from the start.

 

“Wow,” she smiles, kissing her husband-to-be, “guess this makes me a true king now that I have myself a queen.”

 

Thor chuckles, bowing his head for another kiss and holding her dearly under the stars as they admire the horizon a little longer.

 

“Come on then, I’d better bring you back before the townsfolk start pasting your picture on milk bottles.”

 

“Surely you weren’t all _that_ worried?” Thor denies, amused.

 

“I organised search parties for you, Thor,” Valkyrie informs with a tireless grunt as she gives him a leg up onto the back of Skeidbrimir before leading her steed and her little lost prince back down to the village.

 

“Hey, there they are!” Korg cheers when he spots their arrival lead by Chess, rousing the whole town as lights flicker on and windows open and people lean out to applaud his safe return in relief.

 

Thor is glowing with appreciation as he waves to the familiar faces like this is his second coronation day, then he dismounts by the harbour and holds his wife-to-be, raising her onto his shoulder with pride.

 

“We’re getting married!” he cries.

 

The Asgardians convene in the streets as they hear the news, all seemingly having been dying for this day to come.

 

“Hey guys, to the newlyweds!” Korg leads the cheer.

 

“We’re not married yet!” Valkyrie corrects, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

 

“Free drinks all around!” the pub landlord announces. And with that invitation, the whole kingdom head to the tavern in their pyjamas to celebrate.

 

 

 

 

“Do you think you’ll make a good husband?” Valkyrie teases, touching noses with Thor as he sits beside her; arm around her shoulder, not wanting to let go for a second.

 

“Oh, I’m going to make an _excellent_ husband,” he says in a low and confident tone, loved up as he brushes his lips against hers but not quite going for a kiss yet. “I’m going to be the best husband you could ask for.”

 

“I believe that,” Valkyrie grins smugly, giving his beard a gentle tug as she finishes the kiss he was skirting around. “After all, you’re already everything I could ask for.”

 

“As are you,” Thor replies sincerely, going quiet for a moment as the festive atmosphere around them creates a warmth and a homeliness he’s been missing among his people for a long time. “Being a king… being a hero, none of that will ever bring me the profound happiness of being able to call myself your husband,” he attests.

 

His smile returns then as he takes her hand bearing the ring and kisses it reverently.

 

“Thor,” Valkyrie diverts, lifting his head to meet her gaze with a tender touch.

 

“Thank you for helping me find my path again,” he maintains, grinning with pride as he looks into her eyes, “your majesty.”

 

“You found your own path, Thor,” Valkyrie reminds. “I’m just happy to be on it… and to have you as my husband,” she smiles.

 

“Ah,” Thor lights, visibly warmed by the merest implication of getting to spend the rest of his life with his Valkyrie. “I will never tire or hearing that,” he admits, “you will say it often, won’t you?”

 

“Every day,” Valkyrie assures, her smile turning into a grin as they kiss.

 

From there on, New Asgard dances all night, laughing and reminiscing until people begin to retire, drunk on a communal happiness the survivors of Ragnarok haven’t felt in years.

 

The sun is starting to rise when Thor and Valkyrie decide it’s time for them to go home, but it would appear the queen's going to have to pull a national holiday as it’s unlikely anyone will be up for a day’s work now.

 

But that’s fine. Everything is fine. And New Asgard can sleep for a day, because finally, the stormy seas are starting to calm, and a rainbow is emerging, guiding them home as it always has done for their kingdom.  
  


 

 

 

The next day Thor informs the Avengers of his news. Despite finally going to bed at something close to daybreak, it appears the sunny thunder god’s excitement can’t be quashed by sleeplessness; he’s out of bed the minute he wakes.

 

Well, maybe a couple minutes later than that… he couldn’t possibly resist admiring his wife-to-be; peaceful in his arms as she makes the most of her lie in.

 

“I knew it’d happen eventually!” Bruce calls from the kitchen as he makes himself a cup of tea; visible over Sam’s shoulder as the new Captain grins uncontrollably into the camera.

 

“So?! Tell us everything, man! What’s the date? Where’s the venue? You got a suit yet?” Sam asks, turning suddenly very serious on that last note as the possibility of taking the god of thunder out to get his wedding suit tailored holds great appeal.

 

“None of those things!” Thor says obliviously, delighted nonetheless.

 

“Well hey, when you and Valkyrie have decided, why not come over here for a weekend and we’ll—”

 

“Stag party! Lemme handle the stag party! Please, I’m begging!” Scott chimes in.

 

“Hey, you gotta’ call him Mr Thor when you address him, man,” Sam hisses over his shoulder at the size-changing hero clinging to him.

 

“Please, Mr Thor!” Scott implores, sending Sam into a fit of laughter at his gullibility.

 

“I was just messing with you, tic-tac,” he chuckles, “but what’dya say, big fella? Wanna’ have a guy’s night in New York? I’m sure the girls would have a great time too if Valkyrie wanted to party up here with them all.”

 

“I just texted Hope, she says she’s already on the phone with her right now and that they’re making plans!” Scott informs excitedly.

 

“Damn… they’re too fast,” Sam remarks with a shake of his head.

 

“Hey, you and Val should talk this over first,” Bruce advises as he takes a bite of his toasted bagel held daintily between his huge fingers. “The wedding arrangements come first, so get the date and the venue in order, then we can decide on how you wanna’ celebrate the night before you get married,” he smiles.

 

“Yes,” Thor nods, “ah, though I fear I may not have the time to confer with you all for at least a few days, would you please inform Captain Rogers and his quiet companion that they are both invited to the wedding?”

 

“Ah, I uh… I already told everyone I know,” Scott says nervously, rubbing the back of his head like the guilty gossip he is.

 

“Man you’re even quicker than the girls,” Sam commends. “I’ll make sure Steve understood whatever loose-lips over here said, don’t you worry,” he confirms as he ruffles Scott’s hair.

 

“Thank you, Captain,” Thor grins, saluting playfully as they all say their goodbyes and congratulate him one more time, and just as he’s ending the call, his beautiful wife-to-be is coming downstairs.

 

“Good afternoon, my queen,” Thor dotes on her, sweeping her into a hug before she descends the last step and holding her like it’s been years since he last saw her.

 

It’s apparent she’s been talking upstairs given that her voice doesn’t have the usual depth to it that her first words of the day _tend_ to have until she’s had some coffee, and she returns Thor’s giddy greeting with a kiss.

 

“Right then, we need to sit down,” Val concludes as she heads over to the kitchen to boil the kettle, slipping naturally into her business voice as she does whenever she’s leading a meeting.

 

Thor loves it.

 

“I’ve been talking, and the girls reckon they can have something organised over there for next week, which gives us a week here to arrange the ceremony and sort out invites.”

 

“Ah! I believe I might know someone who can help us with that,” Thor announces, delighted to be able to make his first contribution to the planning of their wedding.

 

“Oh?” Valkyrie inclines with a smirk and a quirk of a brow. “Alright then, can I leave that in your capable hands, big guy?”

 

“Absolutely!” Thor beams.

 

“Great… I guess uh… meeting adjourned then, let’s have breakfast... or, lunch,” Val grins.

 

 

 

 

The air of festivity doesn’t dissipate over the weekend, in fact the townsfolk have some plans of their own on how to prepare for the wedding the minute the date is announced, and even at a glance as things are carted around and shipped in, it doesn’t seem like there’s going to be a shortage of bunting and lights to adorn the streets.

 

 _Or_ food, which actually ends up taking care of one of their first orders of business when the local merchants offer to cater for the wedding. By the time Thor’s mysterious contact arrives on Monday, there’s almost very little to do.

 

“Miss Potts!” Thor cheers as the Quinjet lands and the prim woman steps out with a portfolio already under-arm.

 

“Ah, so this is your inside wedding planner,” Valkyrie smirks, extending a hand to Pepper in greeting.

 

“Uh, Mr Thor, you forgot again! It’s Mrs Hogan now,” a familiar voice corrects.

 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I brought the kid along,” Pepper smiles, knowing it was worth the high-energy plane ride with him when she sees the way Thor’s face drops with overwhelming emotion.

 

Peter launches himself at the god of thunder from a standstill, and despite his apparent bewilderment, Thor doesn’t hesitate to embrace him and begins to cry with laughter.

 

“I have missed you, young one!” he exclaims, rubbing his cheek against the mop of mousy hair and noting how Peter seems to even be a little taller than when they last met.

 

“Congratulations on proposing to your girlfriend, Mr Thor!” Peter beams, “oh and uh, y-your majesty,” he quickly acknowledges Valkyrie, bowing to her and earning an amused chuckle. “We um, we actually met, I dunno’ if you remember but uh—”

 

“Yes, you were the brave spider creature running around with that gauntlet like a headless chicken, correct?” she says with a faux expression of uncertainty.

 

Relieved by her humour, Peter exhales and offers a lopsided grin. “Th-that was me, yup!”

 

“Okay, well then, let’s talk details,” Pepper smiles professionally, following the way as the two Asgardians take their guests to the town hall.

 

Despite having planned to stay for the week to make sure everything went smoothly, after some in depth discussions with Valkyrie and a tour of New Asgard, it seems that there’ll be no need for outsiders _or_ professionals.

 

The town baker has offered his services for the cake and other confectionaries, the butcher has promised a prime selection of every meat he has to offer, and the remaining palace cooks were keen to handle the catering.

 

The tavern owner has declared himself in charge of supplying alcohol; the tailor has assured the locals that they can provide and adjust everyone’s formalwear, the loggers and fishermen have already had talks with the florist to arrange the venue setup, and finally, the blacksmith, who had delighted at the prospect of forging the wedding rings.

 

“Sounds like you didn’t need me at all,” Pepper concludes over their kitchen table after their day of discussions.

 

“I guess it was oversight to think we’d be doing this all ourselves,” Valkyrie agrees. “I didn’t give our people enough credit,” she laughs. “It’s silly really, given that we’ve been having royal weddings and big celebrations for centuries and it never occurred to me that the people of Asgard would be so ready and willing to pitch in.”

 

“Well, you’ve been through a lot as a community, particularly in just the past few years, it’s easy to forget these things when you’ve been focussed on survival up till now,” the soft-spoken redhead reminds as she sips her tea.

 

Valkyrie glances back at Thor and Peter then, sat playing video games as Peter updates the thunder god on how he’s doing in school.

 

“Things are finally starting to feel good again, though,” Val smiles.

 

 

 

 

“Well, I must admit I didn’t think things were going to be quite so effortless, but you’ve got yourself a wedding planned!” Pepper excitedly illuminates as she and Peter are already about to head home. “All that’s left is your dress,” she winks.

 

Valkyrie grins, happy to say that even that box is already checked.

 

“Actually, I’ll be wearing my regalia. It’s traditional for royalty, so…” she sighs with a happy smile, “thanks so much for your help. Really it’s just been nice to lay plans bare and see how things will progress,” the Asgardian queen admits, leaning in to give Pepper a hug this time.

 

“It was really great to see you again, Mr Thor,” Peter chirps as he gives the god of thunder one last hug as well.

 

“And you,” Thor beams, “I look forward to you being there on the big day,” he adds as they break apart.

 

“And to you, your majesty!” Peter says with intentional humour this time as he bows deeply to Valkyrie and crosses an arm over his chest. “You have chosen a fine man to be your husband!”

 

Val snickers, but she can’t exactly disagree. “Thank you, I’m sure _we’ve_ chosen a fine page boy, as well,” she winks.

 

“Safe journey, Mrs Hogan,” Thor says correctly this time as he and Pepper take their turn for goodbyes.

 

“Thank you, sweetie,” she smiles breezily, failing to get her arms all the way around his broad body but cherishing every minute of warmth garnered from being embraced by the teddy bear of a man.

 

The two board the Quinjet then, and Thor and Valkyrie stand together as they wave them off.

 

“Guess that’ll be us next,” Valkyrie points out.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Heading off to New York,” she grins, gazing up at her husband-to-be.

 

“Ah yes, to indulge in our last evening of freedom,” the thunder god chuckles.

 

“Oh that’s right, because once we’re married we’ll never be free of each other _again_ ,” Valkyrie plays along.

 

Thor’s lips curl into an enamoured grin as he slips his arms under his queen and gathers her up, leaning in to brush noses with her before a kiss.

 

“Good,” he says with a deep grumble, “I never ever want to be apart from you for a moment I live.”

 

“Yeah?” Valkyrie goads, her own lips curled into a sanguine smile as they flirt with one another in their own little bubble.

 

“Mm,” Thor confirms, his voice disappearing as their kiss deepends.

 

“What say we head home and get dinner started?” Val purrs as Thor gently lets her down, taking her hand instead.

 

 

 

 

“You know, love,” Valkyrie mentions as they’re sitting down to eat, “it just occurred to me that we haven’t actually decided exactly where we’re having the ceremony.”

 

“Ah,” Thor smiles softly as his opportunity to put forth the suggestion he’s been holding onto all day arises. “I have given this some thought myself,” he begins, “and I think it would be befitting if we were to get married where I proposed…”

 

“On the hill?” Valkyrie clarifies.

 

It’s a spot that Thor has a great attachment to, clearly, and he’s spent a lot more time there than she has, but now that she pictures it, there couldn’t be a more perfect spot.

 

There’s no other outcrop of land that extends that far into the sea, and it’s west-facing, meaning the sun always sets on that horizon.

 

Now that summer is on its way the grass is starting to grow dappled with wild flowers, too, and with the lighthouse just across from them and the village below, it would make for a magnificent setting with the way it allows for a view of all the land surrounding them.

 

“I think that sounds perfect,” Valkyrie decides, reaching over to give her future husband’s hand a squeeze.

 

“Also,” he continues with a romantic flare in his pied-eyes, “we have to write our wedding vows to one another.”

 

“Ah, yes we do,” Valkyrie recalls, taking up her knife and fork as she begins to eat. “I suppose we still have a lot to get sorted before the big day after all.”

 

“That is true, although having the kingdom help out with the organising has already taken a lot of responsibility off our hands,” Thor gratefully considers, “it is us and our roles in the ceremony that we must concern ourselves with,” he chuckles.

 

“I’d better make a list,” Val mutters, slipping her phone out of her pocket and typing rather comfortably with one hand. “Venue, vows— and what are you wearing?” she wonders, glancing up at him with a momentary look of sudden realisation. It seems this whole wedding thing has a _lot_ of hidden aspects that they keep forgetting to consider.

 

“Well, the Captain offered to take me out the morning of our visit to try on suits,” the thunder god explains, sounding giddy about the prospect. “But I think I would like something more traditional f-for my hair,” he adds blushingly.

 

“Oh~?” Val croons, curious as to what her fiancé has in mind. “I can’t wait to see,” she grins, the low lighting of the candles between them flickering on her face and making the slight sheen on her plump lips shimmer invitingly.

 

“I can’t wait to see you, either,” Thor murmurs, “Actually I… I can’t believe that in a matter of days I will be your husband.”

 

Pushing her empty plate aside, Valkyrie reaches over to entangle their fingers, her ring glinting in the auburn lighting.

 

“I know. How lucky am I?” she smiles.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy valentine's everyone, this fic has been a real labour of love so i hope these last few chapters will continue to deliver ♡


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